


Way to Victory

by crea_sei



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AKA Yuuri, AKA Yuuri & Viktor, Angst, Anxiety, Celestino Is Too Old For This Shit, Fluff, I'm Honestly Doing My Best, M/M, Phichit Cameo, Pirozhki Saving The Day, Pretty Sure Yuuri Has Depression, Proud Parents, Somewhat (it's just Yuuri's anxiety acting up lol), Time Travel, Unreliable Narrator, Vicchan Lives, Viktor with a K
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-12 11:39:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9070042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crea_sei/pseuds/crea_sei
Summary: Defeated after his loss at the GPF 2015, Yuuri doesn't expect anything more from the GPF.That is, until he wakes up on the 5th of December, five days before the GPF even begins.

“I came here to skate,” Yuuri says. “It was supposed to be the last time, the last dance.” He grows quiet.
Viktor is pleading him with his gaze, Don't give up, don't give up, he seems to say. His hands are still on Yuuri's cheeks, warm against the coldness of his skin.
Yuuri smiles. “But you were here,” he says softly.





	1. 5th December 2015

**Author's Note:**

> [ my tumblr](https://crea-sei.tumblr.com/), come visit me if you have some time ♡
> 
> UPDATE: I now find this fic terribly cheesy and unprepared. So even if you read this... I can't promise that it will be to your liking. TT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri wakes up in the past.

When Yuuri wakes, he expects to feel horrible, to have his eyes clammy from the tears and his muscles singing in pain from the falls he took in his free skate.

It doesn't happen.

Sure, he feels tired, anxiety is just bubbling under his skin, and the memory of Mari's call about Vicchan still makes his stomach twists and knots horribly, but, everything else is just… gone.

The red and blue bruises he had on his hips are gone, and his skin is smooth. Even the injuries on his feet are gone – and they had been nasty, leaving Yuuri's feet (almost) oozing with blood. It's almost like he never did his free skate.

And while he's happy to have woken up pajamas-clad in his hotel room, he doesn't remember managing the trip to his room, and he remembers even less having enough lucidity to change into his pajamas… though maybe it's simply because he doesn't remember much of last night.

(How much did he have to drink again…?)

Curiously enough, he doesn't even have a migraine from all that alcohol.

Yuuri stares at his bruise-less body for a few seconds, and then shrugs, slipping into the shower, and turning on the warm water.

After a warm, good shower, Yuuri dresses up into his normal attire. The clock indicates 5 o'clock, which is a lot earlier than Yuuri would have liked, but he doesn't think that he can go back to sleep right now.

Yuuri picks up his phone, wondering if anyone called him while he was asleep – he doesn't remember if Ciao Ciao managed to go to his own hotel room, and considering Ciao Ciao looked more wasted than Yuuri felt… – but he freezes at the date that appears on the screen.

 **2015 December 5 th  
**05:03

Yuuri's grip on his phone slackens in surprise, and the phone clatters on the ground. Yuuri doesn't move to pick it up.

After a while, he manages to get his breathing to calm down again, and kneels in front of his phone. He's almost afraid to pick it up, because his hands are shaking a little.

Knowing that it's about 11 o'clock in Hasetsu, and that his whole family should be awake, Yuuri sends his sister a message.

**05:12**

_Hey Big Sis, sorry to bother you, but could you tell me what day it is?_

**05:13**

_?_  
_Sure. 5 th of December. Why _  
_do you ask?_

**05:14**

_Nothing._

_Don't worry about it._ _Thanks._

**05:14**

_? **  
** You're welcome._

Yuuri exhales, loudly.

He presses a hand against his chest, and takes a deep breath.

**05:16**

_Big sis, there's something  
    I wanted to ask you._

He doesn't know if it was all just a dream, or if he really went back in time, but he doesn't want to take any chance.

**05:17**

_Could you watch over Vicchan?_

* * *

 

Yuuri goes out of his hotel room, feeling as if he's about to fight with the entire world.

He barely remembers what he's supposed to do today, what he did last time 'today' came. He thinks he might have spent the whole day with Ciao Ciao, going over his programs and trying to calm down his anxiety.

But… he doesn't think he can do it again.

He still feels keenly Vicchan's death, and the humiliation of utterly failing both his short and free skate makes him antsy to get back to the ice, even more if he does it while on skates. Just thinking of it makes his skin crawl.

So, no, he doesn't think he can bear Ciao Ciao's worrying over his performance – he knows that Ciao Ciao only wants his best, but sometimes, it just becomes too much.

Instead of sending Ciao Ciao a message or of waiting for him in the hotel, Yuuri decides to slip out, and go wherever he feels like.

In the hotel hall, there are very few people. Yuuri thinks he recognizes one competitor, but he's not sure, because their back is turned to Yuuri. It might be the Italian guy, Michele Crispino, because he's talking to a black-haired, tan-skinned lady who looks like Crispino's sister, Sara.

It would be a bit strange to see them here. Most competitors only come for the days of the competition, and not five days before it begins. But he guesses that, like him, they would need to get used to the ice rink. Or maybe they'd be here to visit Sochi, who knows.

Yuuri stares at them for a moment, before shrugging it off, and walking out.

The streets outside are covered in snow, and when Yuuri breathes out, it creates white puffs of air. People are wrapped up in layers of thick clothes, the tips of their noses and ears red from the cold. The cars are driving more slowly, and their glasses are frosted over. Certain parts of the ground are covered in ice, and some children are playing around with it.

Yuuri is barely feeling the cold. He feels like crying.

He doesn't remember that sight. He doesn't remember that Sochi had been covered in snow. In his memory, it had been a warm day, because Yuuri had sweated and sweated, his hands clammy and his glasses slipping off his nose. He doesn't remember the snow.

Yuuri closes his eyes, for a second or two.

When he opens them again, he hears a door opening and closing behind him.

“Oh, hey,” Sara Crispino greets him, offering him a kind smile. Yuuri doesn't think they have ever talked to each other before.

Her brother just frowns at Yuuri, and mumbles a quiet, "Hello."

“H-hello,” he eventually manages to stutter out, blinking. He feels a bit dazed, as if just waking up from a dream.

Sara gives him a long look. Her smile softens. “What were you doing?”

Yuuri guesses he must have stood there for a long time, if the Crispino siblings came to investigate. “Just… appreciating the view,” he says, sincerely. He turns back to look at the snow-covered streets.

“Oh,” Sara says. “Does it not snow often in Japan?”

Yuuri shakes his head slowly. “It does,” he says. “Ah, but I haven't been home in five years anyway,” he admits quietly, quirking up a small, humorless smile.

There's no answer, so Yuuri turns to look at the siblings. While Michele is still scowling at him, Sara is giving him an indescribable look, like she's trying to decide what to do with him.

Eventually, she sighs. “Well, I don't know if the weather is completely different from where you come from, but I think you should change your clothes.” She gives Yuuri's thin jacket a dubious look. “You'll catch a cold if you don't.”

Michele looks like he's barely restraining himself from running out of here with his sister.

Yuuri looks down at his jacket. “Ah.” He blinks at Sara, and gives her a small smile. “Thanks, will do,” even though he has absolutely no intention to change any time soon.

Sara doesn't look convinced, but with a small hum and a smile, she lets it go. “See you, Yuuri,” she throws over her shoulder, walking away.

Her brother doesn't hesitate to throw Yuuri a glare as he follows her, even though he hasn't said anything at all.

Yuuri watches them go, and then turns back to the scenery.

He wonders if he should just go visit Sochi.

* * *

Yuuri decides to go to a nearby park.

It's mostly empty, and the few people who are there are either runners or passersby. Some of them glance at Yuuri, but most ignore him. There's a brave street seller in the middle of the park. He sells all kinds of food that Yuuri doesn't recognize. Yuuri buys him a _pirozhki_ with money he didn't know he had.

After wiping off the snow on a nearby bench, Yuuri sits down.

He manages to gulp down the pirozhki, even though he feels like throwing up. It has a good taste; it's filled with meat – beef, he guesses –, mushrooms, rice and onions. It sort of reminds him of katsudon – though katsudon is a lot better, of course... or at least, it is in his memories.

The pirozhki warms his fingers.

His phone indicates 05:49. He wonders if he should go to practice now. He still doesn't know whether he's supposed to get there at 6 o'clock or 7 o'clock. He thinks it might be 7 o'clock.

Nevertheless, he sends a message about it to Ciao Ciao.

Ciao Ciao doesn't answer until 06:12, with a short: “7 am.”

Yuuri puts on an alarm for 06:30, and goes back to watching the passersby.

* * *

At 7 o'clock, he goes to the ice rink.

Ciao Ciao is already there, waiting for him. He looks anxious.

“Yuuri!” he greets loudly, when Yuuri enters the ice rink's hall. “Where were you? You weren't in your room.”

Yuuri shakes his head, and some snow falls off his shoulders. “No, I wasn't,” he simply agrees. “I went to a park,” he admits. “I brought pirozhki… pirozhki's…? It was good. Maybe next time I can bring you some.”

Ciao Ciao looks deeply disturbed by the fact Yuuri ate pirozhki. “Yuuri,” he begins, his voice lowering. “Are you alright?”

Yuuri pauses.

 _No_ , he wants to say, _no. The eight past days have been erased from existence, my dog might die in four days, and I will embarrass my family on at least fifty generations in five days. No, I'm not alright._

But saying all that would make him break, because he doesn't want to actually acknowledge what happened. He thought about it long and hard while in the park, and he knows, he _knows_ , that it wasn't just a dream. He knows that all of it actually happened, he knows it, but… he doesn't want to _say_ it.

And, to be honest, he can guess what Ciao Ciao's reaction to his admission would be. Surely, he would think Yuuri had gone insane, and would immediately remove him from the competition. Yuuri doesn't know which is worse: placing last, or being removed before it even begins.

So instead of telling the truth, he says: “Yeah,” and when Ciao Ciao doesn't look convinced, he adds, “just the usual." And he doesn't even feel guilty for lying.

Realization dawns upon Ciao Ciao's face. He kindly pats him on the back, giving him a look that might be aiming to be reassuring but just makes Yuuri more anxious. “Don't force yourself,” he says.

Yuuri nods, but he's not really listening.

Putting on his skates is harder than planned, because the sick feeling in Yuuri's stomach intensifies each time he looks at the skates.

Nevertheless, Yuuri persists, and he manages to reach the ice rink without throwing up.

Ciao Ciao gives him his headphones.

When Yuuri slips them on and the music begins to play, the illness he feels fades, even if only a little.

* * *

He manages most of his jumps. And even when he does fail them, he manages to get up immediately after. His steps and spins might actually be better than usual, and by the time he reaches the end of his program, he's not utterly exhausted.

When he glides off the ice, Ciao Ciao gives him a long look. Yuuri ignores it for a moment, preferring to concentrate on putting the skate guards on.

“Yuuri,” Ciao Ciao eventually says. “Are you sure you're alright?”

Yuuri exhales softly. He's feeling better, now that he was able to skate it off. And he's still feeling dazed, like he's out of his body, like he's just a spectator to what's happening.

“I'm fine,” he says. “It's just that Vicchan might die soon,” he admits. It's not a lie – at least, for him.

“Oh, Yuuri, I'm sorry.” Ciao Ciao pauses, clearly uncomfortable, but then offers Yuuri a hug.

Yuuri barely has a second to think, before he jumps into his coach's arms.

It's uncomfortable at best – Ciao Ciao is clearly not used to doing this, and Yuuri can't find in himself the force to move even just a little – but the empty feeling in Yuuri's chest fades, a little, so it's all for good.

Yuuri eventually manages to unglue himself from his coach. “Thanks,” he says, his voice hoarse. His eyes are filled with tears. He wipes them off quickly.

Ciao Ciao smiles, and claps Yuuri on the shoulder. “I think you should take a break,” he coaxes gently. “Do you want to visit Sochi?”

Yuuri blinks, and nods. “Ye—,” his voice catches again, “yes.”

* * *

Sochi is a big city, a big _touristic_ city.

There are a lot of things to visit. They take the afternoon off for it.

(Even though Yuuri smiles and laughs, he still feels dazed.

If he was able to, would he want to wake from this dream?)

* * *

At the end of the day, Yuuri finds himself alone in his hotel room.

He's exhausted, and stumbles into his bed the moment he sees it. The sheets are nice and cold against his skin, and it wakes him.

He slips his glasses off, and takes out his phone.

Almost instinctively, he looks up _Katsuki Yuuri_ , awaiting the same results from yesterday, those that talked about how he had placed last, and speculated he was quitting ice skating.

It doesn't happen.

Instead, Yuuri finds multiple articles saying that he's Japan's Ace, and that he's going to make Japan proud. Some say: _**Yuuri Katsuki, the future of Japanese Ice Skating**_ , and others simply say: _**The new Japanese Ice Skater, Yuuri Katsuki**_ , but almost all of them end with: ' _will Yuuri Katsuki, Japan's Ace, win gold at the GPF, and possibly dethrone Viktor_ _Nikiforov's_ _record_ _?_ _'_

The sickness that had disappeared when Yuuri had gone skating comes back with a vengeance.

Yuuri is forced to stumble in the bathroom to retch.

He doesn't think he's going to make them proud. He doesn't think he can do it; there's no way he could ever do this.

He had already failed once, after all.

(He can still remember the feeling of the ice on his cheeks, when he fell down. The burning in his chest, when he heard the music continue, and felt his inability to get up. Ciao Ciao and Morooka told him that it was too early to give up…

…but Yuuri's not sure he wants to continue.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this chapter.  
> Take care! ♡


	2. 6th December 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri meets his lifelong idol again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness.  
> I was anxious about you guys' reaction to this all night long, but you guys... you're all so kind. (Literally began crying when I first read them, lmao i'm weak af.)  
> This is the first time a fanfic of mine gets so much attention. Hope I won't disappoint you with this chapter...
> 
> I love you all. May you all be blessed. ♡

The next morning, he wakes at 03:57, even earlier than before.

Even when he tries to go back to sleep, he doesn't manage to – he's tired, true, but he's more sad than tired.

( _There's an emptiness in his chest. His mind is hollow, and every thought echoes endlessly. He can't even remember why he is here, what brought him here._

_He knows that there are people waiting for him, his family, his friends, but they feel so far away._

_It feels like he's drowning._

_What brought him here?_

_What made him skate?_

_What made him_ _ **love**_ _skating?_ )

He decides to go outside.

He takes a quick shower, dresses in his training clothes, and slips out of the hotel.

* * *

When he arrives at the ice rink, someone is already there.

As Yuuri slips on his skates, even with the music playing in the speakers, he can hear the swooshing of skates on ice, the breaking of ice when the person takes off in a jump. It feels like a lullaby, like a catchy pop song whose name Yuuri has (desperately) been trying to figure out.

Yuuri approaches the rink silently.

The person on the ice is Viktor Nikiforov.

He's skating his routine, _Stay Close To Me –_ which Yuuri only recognizes because he suddenly has acquired the ability to travel back in time. He doesn't seem to notice Yuuri, so he steps back in the shadows (just to make sure).

He hasn't thought of Viktor until now.

The hurt he had felt from Viktor not recognizing him as a fellow competitor is still there, sharp and pulsing, but he can't even bring himself to be resentful. He can't find in himself to hate Viktor, when he was the one to bring Yuuri to skating.

( _Ah_ , Yuuri thinks, _he_ _was the one to bring_ _me here._ )

While his skating is as perfect as usual, Viktor's face is twisted into something that may be sadness. His face is mercifully dry, and his mouth is set in a natural, straight line, but there's something in his gaze that calls Yuuri's attention.

A cry for help, maybe.

Yuuri's not sure he'll ever be able to help.

* * *

“Oh?” Viktor says, when he notices him.

Yuuri is still dazed enough that he doesn't immediately run away, but a flush still crawls its way on his cheeks. “H-hello…?” he half-greets. He's afraid Viktor will get angry, will think that Yuuri is spying on him.

Viktor smiles, but it's as cold as ice. “And who might you be?”

Yuuri feels a pang in his chest. His shoulders slump even more. “...I'm Yuuri,” he says.

“Yuuri…?” Viktor repeats, giving him a dubious look.

Yuuri suddenly remembers the Russian Yuuri, Yuri Plisetsky. “Yuuri Katsuki,” he finishes unwillingly. He almost adds, _I'm a competitor, too. Why don't you recognize me?_ but manages to restrain himself at the last moment. He's not sure Viktor would take it well.

Viktor is still smiling that ice cold smile. “Well then, _Yuu_ -ri, what are you doing here?”

Yuuri flushes at the way Viktor says his name, and manages to stutter out, “I-I wanted to skate. B-but since you were already here, I thought it'd be best if I– if I didn't interrupt you.”

Viktor raises an eyebrow at him, but his smile warms a little. “Are you here for a competition?” he asks, unknowingly deepening the rift of emptiness in Yuuri's heart.

Somehow, he manages to force a smile. “Yeah, something like that,” he says vaguely.

Viktor persists, “Which one?”

This whole situation is painfully embarrassing, and Yuuri doesn't know how to answer.

On the one hand, he doesn't want to answer honestly, because then Viktor would be forced to face the fact that he obviously didn't look up who he was going to face, and it's a sign he doesn't take any of his competitor seriously. On the other hand, he wants to answer honestly, because Viktor has hurt his feelings twice already, and might sort-of want to take revenge.

Still, Viktor doesn't deserve that. Yuuri is sure he has good reasons for not knowing.

As lightly as he can, he says, “I guess you didn't look up who your competitors are, yet?” He doesn't let Viktor answer, and rushes out, “I'm here for the Men's Single for GPF.” He pauses, but Viktor looks too surprised (and is that guilt in his eyes?) to answer. “I understand,” he forces out, even though he really _doesn't_ , “It's nice to keep the surprise until the end, right?”

The pleasantry feels like ash in his mouth.

Yuuri hopes that none of his hurt appears on his face, because that would be more embarrassing than Viktor not recognizing him even _after_ the GPF.

Viktor looks like he's at a loss for words. His whole composure has broken. “U-uh, I mean… y-yes…?” The guilt is now obvious on his face, and he's skating in loose circles – unconsciously, probably. “Y-yes, of course!” He gives an awkward laugh.

Viktor looks embarrassed, but he mainly looks guilty. Yuuri fears that his hurt may have appeared, because Viktor has no other reason to feel guilty. To try and ease his guilt, Yuuri smiles back.

They both fall silent.

“Was that your Free Skate routine?” Yuuri asks, now desperate to break the awkward silence.

Viktor jumps at the occasion. “Y-yes!” he exclaims, but then manages to build his composure back. He gives an easy smile. “ _Stay Close To Me_ , to Stammi Vicino.”

“It's beautiful,” Yuuri says honestly, cheeks flushed. He forgets everything about Viktor not recognizing him. “I think it may become my favorite.”

“Your favorite?” Viktor repeats, skating towards Yuuri. “Are you… are you a fan?” he asks slowly, as if afraid he's about to offend Yuuri again.

Yuuri flushes. “Y-yes.” Viktor looks incredibly happy at the admission, so he continues, “You were the one to inspire me to skate,” he spills, flushing and looking down at the ice. “I began to skate because of you, Viktor.” He suddenly grows confidence, and looks at Viktor in the eyes. “Thank you.”

Viktor is silent.

“I inspired your skating?” he eventually says, watching Yuuri with wide, glimmering eyes.

“Yes,” Yuuri says, shamelessly.

“Show me,” Viktor says earnestly, looking like he found something infinitely precious. “Show me, please.”

Yuuri flushes, but he nods. “Alright,” he breathes. “Okay.”

* * *

Viktor's eyes are on him.

Yuuri should be anxious, he should be shaking and sweating out of his skin, but he's not.

He's strangely calm.

Viktor's eyes are on him, and Yuuri is at peace.

Through one of his spin, Yuuri catches a glimpse of Viktor's face. His sight is blurry, because his glasses are off, but he's able to see the expression on his face. A cross between wonder and excitement, like Yuuri's skating is an incredible sight, a sight that inspires him beyond words.

Yuuri's skating is doing that. Yuuri's skating is causing that expression.

The fire in his heart grows tenfold.

 _Ah_ , Yuuri thinks, _I don't want to give up_.

He skates because he wants to, he skates because he loves it.

_I don't want to give this up._

* * *

When Yuuri finishes his free skate, he's in tears.

The dampness of his cheeks doesn't keep him from smiling as widely as he can.

Viktor is smiling, too, and for whatever reason, there's a flush on his cheeks. His eyes are shining. “That was wonderful,” he says, sounding sincere, when Yuuri comes to get back his glasses. “You were wonderful.”

Yuuri flushes, and smiles. “Thank you,” he says again, “I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you.”

Viktor's eyes widen minutely, but then his gaze softens, and he gives Yuuri what may be a fond smile.

Yuuri's tears redouble at the sight, and he makes a noise between a sob and a laugh. A hand comes to wipe his tears away, bumping his glasses up in his hair. Yuuri flushes horribly.

“Why are you crying?” Viktor asks quietly.

Yuuri is silent for a moment. “...I recently embarrassed myself terribly,” even though it never happened for the rest of the world, the memory is still clear in his head, “and I felt like nothing I could ever do would replace that memory. I… I lost my inspiration,” he admits quietly, and it draws a gasp from Viktor.

When Yuuri glances up, Viktor looks torn between being understanding or crestfallen.

“I came here to skate,” Yuuri repeats his words from earlier. “It was supposed to be the last time, the last dance.” He grows quiet.

Viktor is pleading him with his gaze, _Don't give up, don't give up,_ he seems to say. His hands are still on his cheeks, warm against the coldness of Yuuri's skin.

Yuuri smiles. “But you were here,” he says softly.

“But I was here?” Viktor repeats, a hopeful smile appearing. His cheeks are a nice, cozy pink.

“And you gave me hope again,” Yuuri says, watching closely for Viktor's reaction. “I realized why I was skating, why I skate. I love skating,” he pauses; then smiles. “And I don't plan on giving up any time soon,” he makes it sound like a challenge.

Viktor hears it. His eyes widen, and the shine in them grows. “Oh?” he breathes.

“Yes,” Yuuri confirms, growing bold and confident. “So don't give up, Viktor. I want to skate on the same ice as you.”

 _Is that a promise?_ Viktor's eyes seem to say.

 _Yes, yes,_ Yuuri thinks desperately. _Yes, it is._

“Then… I won't give up,” Viktor eventually says, looking like he's found the most precious of treasures and plans on never giving it up. His expression is clear, his cheeks rosy; the lines under his eyes seem to fade away, and he looks younger again, bright and overflowing with hope.

Yuuri isn't sure what causes that expression, but he wants it to stay like this forever. There's something in Viktor's gaze that makes him want to drown in it.

“Yuuri Katsuki,” Viktor suddenly says, tilting his head, eyes half-lidded. His thumb lightly brushes over Yuuri's cheek, reaching the corner of his lips.

It's like a wake up call.

Yuuri jumps back in surprise, flushing horribly. “W-w-wha—?!”

Suddenly, what just happened in the last few minutes comes back to him; Yuuri is torn between fainting and apologizing at least a thousand times for what he did.

 _I challenged Viktor! I challenged Viktor!_ his mind screams, and, at the same time, is only able to say: _!!!_

Viktor seems as surprised as Yuuri feels. His hands are still in the air, where Yuuri's face had been.

“S-s-sorry!” he yelps, flailing his arms around. “T-that was pretentious! I-I'm sorry, I-I don't— I don't know what came over me…!” He puts his hands over his cheeks, watching Viktor with wide eyes.

 _I did it_ , he thinks, anxiously awaiting Viktor's reaction. _That's it, that's the end of me. I'll be killed, either by him, or by his fans. Oh dear God, what have I done…_

It starts out as a small smile, then goes into snickering, to finish into rapturous laughter. Viktor bends over, holding his stomach as if he's in pain. He's holding the ice rink's railing, probably to steady himself, because his legs are shaking under the force of his laughter.

Yuuri feels the shame rise from the deepest part of himself. That's it, Viktor, his lifelong idol, is laughing at him, because Yuuri couldn't keep his mouth shut and had to go and challenge him.

He doesn't know what he's supposed to do, so he just stands there, silent, watching Viktor shake with laughter.

(It's an adorable sight, if Yuuri is being honest with himself. He'd just like it a lot more if Viktor wasn't laughing at Yuuri's expanse.)

Viktor eventually manages to get himself under control, and he rises again. There's a hand over his mouth, so Yuuri can't tell if he's smiling or not, but his eyes are shining brighter than anything else.

Viktor lets his hand fall; his lips are curled into the prettiest smile Yuuri has ever seen.

“I can't believe it,” Viktor says, walking in front of Yuuri. “I come here to get inspiration, and I get it in the form of an adorable skater who doesn't realize his own _eros_. Ridiculous, right?”

Yuuri has no idea what Viktor is talking about. He nods.

Viktor gives him what-may-be a fond smile. “Exactly,” he says, voice all sorts of soft and warm.

He lifts his hand toward Yuuri's face. Yuuri expects him to hold his cheek again, and is surprised when his (forgotten) glasses slide in front of his eyes. Now that they're here, Yuuri can clearly see the expression on Viktor's face.

 _!!!_ , Yuuri's mind screams.

“Ridiculous,” Viktor repeats.

“Yeah,” Yuuri agrees.

Yuuri is completely, utterly smitten.

* * *

For some reason, Viktor asks him out – and by that, Yuuri means that Viktor asks to go to a café together.

Except no café is open at 04:48 in the morning, no _sane_ café, at least. Viktor seems oddly disappointed by that fact.

“We could always go to my hotel room, then,” Viktor says slyly.

Yuuri flushes. “U-um… There was a pirozhki stand yesterday, in front of my hotel, at 5 am.” He zips up his jacket. “Maybe he'll be here today too.”

“Pirozhki?” Viktor repeats. “Do you like it?”

Yuuri nods. “Yes…?”

Viktor smiles. “Let's go then!” He drags Yuuri out by his arm.

Yuuri is too surprised to even protest.

* * *

The stand is there, thankfully.

The seller only notices Yuuri at first, and gives him a smile. Then he sees Viktor, and proceeds to fall back in surprise, squeaking all the while.

(He tries to give them the pirozhkok – _not pirozhki's_ – for free, but both Yuuri and Viktor refuse.)

“Yuuri,” Viktor says, as they sit on a bench that's hidden behind some trees. “You come from Japan, right? Which city?”

“Hasetsu,” Yuuri says, a sliver of pride in his voice. “It's a small town in Kyushu, so I doubt you've heard of it. It was famous for its hot springs before, but now there's only one hot spring left.”

“Hot spring?” Viktor repeats, and takes a bite of his pirozhki. “ _Vkusno!_ ” he exclaims then, and proceeds to gulp down the treat.

That's oddly adorable. Yuuri never thought he'd ever think a grown man gulping down food would be adorable, but he guesses everything is possible with Viktor Nikiforov.

“Hot springs,” Yuuri repeats. “Have you never been to one?”

Viktor tilts his head, thinking deeply. “I don't think I've ever been to a hot spring. I went to saunas and pools, but never hot springs.”

“Really? The hot spring in Hasetsu is run by my family, so if you want, you could come vi… sit…” Yuuri flushes, as the meaning of what he just said comes to him. “U-um, that is, if you want to, of course…!” Yuuri fidgets, looking away for a moment in an attempt to regain his bearing.

“Hmm, is that so?” Viktor asks slowly, watching him with half-lidded, languid eyes.

 _Bedroom eyes_ , his mind immediately supplies. Yuuri flushes an ever darker red.

“Y-yes…” Yuuri fumbles with his pirozhki. “Do you… Do you want to look at photos?” he says, awkwardly.

Viktor hums, still watching him with _those eyes_. “Sure.”

“O-okay.” Yuuri takes out his phone, holding the pirozhki with the other hand. He anxiously scrolls through his photos, angling his phone away from Viktor's eyes in the hope he won't see the many, many photos Yuuri has of him. He eventually finds some photos where bits of Yu-topia are shown. “Here,” he says awkwardly, giving Viktor his phone.

Viktor takes it silently, and scrolls through the photos for a few minutes, while Yuuri finishes his pirozhki.

“You have a poodle?” Viktor asks suddenly, showing him a photo of Vicchan.

Yuuri nods, smiling. He looks at Vicchan longingly. “That's Vicchan,” he says quietly. “I've had him since I was 11. But...” He sighs. “I haven't seen him in 5 years, since I went to Detroit for college.” And if it weren't for that time-traveling happening, Yuuri would never have the chance of seeing him ever again.

Viktor gives him an understanding look, and wordlessly swipes to another photo.

It's of Vicchan again, except this time, Yuuri is here too, holding him tightly to his chest. He's wearing his usual jacket, but his glasses are black instead of blue. It looks like it was taken when Yuuri was 18, just before he went to college.

“Your hair was longer,” Viktor observes.

Yuuri leans in to look more closely. “Ah, you're right! I didn't even notice!”

Viktor smiles, all soft and warm. “Of course I would notice,” he says simply, and doesn't add anything when Yuuri sends him a questioning look.

Still smiling pleasantly, Viktor swipes to another photo. It's of Vicchan and Yuuri again. They're a lot younger though.

“Ah, I remember,” Yuuri almost-whispers. “It was when I received Vicchan.” He sighs, and his breath comes out in puffs of white. “He was so small back then.”

“Cute,” Viktor says; no indication in his voice about whether he's talking about Vicchan or Yuuri.

Nonetheless, Yuuri flushes and adverts his eyes shyly.

“I have a dog that looks like that, too,” Viktor informs, swiping back to the photo of an eighteen years old Yuuri holding Vicchan.

Instinctively, Yuuri says: “Makkachin?” He flushes when Viktor gives him a look.

“Right,” he chuckles. “I forgot you were a fan.”

Yuuri flushes a deeper red. “Y-yeah…” He gives an uneasy laugh, and hopes to dear God that Viktor doesn't mind Yuuri's fanatic tendencies.

“Do you think that, if they met,” Viktor turns back to the photo, “they would be friends?”

 _I hope so_ , Yuuri thinks, even though it really shouldn't matter. _I hope so. Please let it happen._

“Maybe,” he says instead.

* * *

Yuuri goes to practice with a new number on his phone, and the feeling that everything will be alright from now on.

(“Glad you're feeling better,” Ciao Ciao says, when he sees the dopey, silly smile on Yuuri's face.)

* * *

At lunch time, Viktor sends him a message.

**11:58**

_Do you eat with your coach?_  
_We could eat together!_  
_I know where to go now!_

     **12:00**

 _Sorry! I'm not able to_  
_come right now._

                    **12:02**

_;(_

     **12:08**

_Maybe next time?_

                    **12:0** **9**

 _!!!_  
_Yes!!_

_ <3_

Yuuri flushes, and hides his face in his hands.

This man is going to kill him.

* * *

In the evening, Yuuri finds Viktor in front of his hotel.

“Yuuri!” Viktor calls him, smiling widely and waving.

“Viktor!” he yelps, and flushes when people around them begin to stare. “Viktor,” he says, more quietly. “What are you doing here?”

Ciao Ciao is giving the both of them wide eyes.

Viktor is unperturbed by the attention. “I'm here for you, of course!” he exclaims loudly, and slings an arm around Yuuri's shoulders. “I still owe you a dinner!” He gently guides Yuuri out of the doors.

Yuuri lets him, for whatever reason. “What? B-but… I thought that eating pirozhki was enough…?” Not that he's unhappy with that course of events – quite the contrary, actually.

Viktor laughs – a bell-like sound. He's laughing at Yuuri's expanse, though. (Yuuri doesn't actually mind.) “Yuuri, Yuuri,” he says, tone mockingly disapproving. “If you think I'm gonna let you go just like that.” He doesn't finish.

Yuuri's about to have a heart attack.

“Um,” he tries again.

But he's given the finishing blow; Viktor smiles at him, tilting his head. The light hits his eyes and makes them shine.

“Okay,” he says, because it's Viktor Effing Nikiforov, and he has a crush about the size of a mountain.

“Glad you agree!” Viktor says brightly, like he didn't just manipulate Yuuri into agreeing.

The hand on Yuuri's back is warm.

* * *

They go to a traditional Russian restaurant.

Contrarily to what Yuuri expected, it doesn't look very pricy. He wonders if Viktor chose a cheap restaurant because he knew Yuuri was in no way rich.

 _Probably not,_ Yuuri thinks, as he watches Viktor gulp down some Russian dish whose name Yuuri is unable to pronounce (or spell). _He's here for his own stomach, isn't he?_ Yuuri doesn't mind, actually. Viktor looks happy.

They mainly talk about their dogs, Makkachin and Vicchan, but sometimes Viktor slips in a comment or two about skating – much to Yuuri's joy.

They have a nice time.

But then, Viktor starts to drink. Alcohol.

Drunk Viktor is a lot more shameless than sober Viktor, and considering that sober Viktor already is shameless, it's saying something.

He starts to undress himself.

Yuuri is _dying_.

He tries to stop Viktor, but Viktor doesn't let him, and pins him down. Somehow.

“Yuuri,” he says, barely slurring despite the amount of alcohol he has consumed. “You know who's cute?”

“U-uh...” and Yuuri must have accidentally inhaled alcohol too, because he says, “you?” He promptly flushes, but the words are already out and about, with no way of taking them back.

Viktor blinks. “Yes, yes, me,” he concedes, somehow managing not to sound like a complete jerk. He looks very pleased with himself. “But you know who else is cute?”

“Um… Makkachin? And Vicchan? You said it so yourself.”

Viktor nods along. “True, true,” he agrees again. “BUT!!” he jerks as he says that. “Someone else is cute here. And you know who that is?”

Yuuri slowly shakes his head. “I'm afraid I don't, Viktor.”

“Aww,” Viktor says. “It's you!”

Yuuri flushes. “Me?” he repeats.

“Yes, you,” Viktor confirms. “You're very cute. The cutest. Hey, you know what,” he leans down, and lowers his voice, “you're even cuter than Yura” – Yuuri has no idea who 'Yura' is – “and you might even be cuter than me.”

 _!!!_ , his mind screams.

It has done that a lot since Yuuri met Viktor.

“I-is that so?” Yuuri asks lightly.

“Yes.” Viktor gently pats Yuuri's cheek. His eyes are half-lidded, and while he looks tired, he also looks incredibly happy. At peace, even. He tilts his head, leaning into the crook of Yuuri's neck. “You're the cutest, _Yuu_ -ri.”

Viktor's voice sends shivers down Yuuri's spine, especially when he says his name that way. Viktor is breathing puffs of air into his neck, and Yuuri feels like he could die right now and not have any regret.

“Viktor,” he calls quietly, laying a hand on Viktor's shoulder, in an effort to push him away. Viktor's skin is incredibly warm, he notes. “Viktor, we should get you back to your hotel.”

Viktor doesn't reply. His other hand, which until now had been holding his beer, snakes its way around Yuuri's waist, and he burrows his face into Yuuri's neck.

It takes a moment for Yuuri to realize that Viktor Nikiforov is hugging him, and it takes him even longer to realize that Viktor has fallen asleep.

Yuuri can barely hear anything over the beating of his own heart. He's afraid that Viktor will wake from it, because it seems impossibly loud to Yuuri's ears. He can't even hear his own breathing.

They just met, and yet. Viktor is already killing him.

“Viktor,” he calls again, more softly.

Hesitantly, he curls an arm around Viktor, and hugs him back.

* * *

                    **21:48**

 _Витя_  
_Где Вы?_

     **21:52**

 _Hello. Sorry, this isn't Viktor._  
_He's currently unable to reply._

_Who is this?_

                    **21:53**

 _This is Viktor's coach._  
_What happened?_

     **21:54**

_He passed out after drinking._

_Do you want to get him back?_

                    **21:58**

 _Who are you? Where are_  
_you?_

     **22:00**

 _Ah, sorry. This is Yuuri_  
_Katsuki._  
_I think we're here[ open link?]._

 _I'm sorry, I don't know this_  
_part of Sochi._

                    **22:12**

_I'm coming._

* * *

Viktor's coach is a lot less threatening in person.

While texting him, Yuuri had feared that he was angry with Yuuri, but in fact, he was angry with Viktor. Which is understandable, considering Viktor got drunk a few days before the GPF. (Yuuri hopes that he will never do that. He's a blackout drunk too, so there's a chance he wouldn't even notice.)

He gives Yuuri an approving once-over. “You're the Japanese competitor,” he acknowledges.

“Yes…?” Yuuri says, awkward. He shifts Viktor, from where he's slung over Yuuri's shoulders. “It's nice to meet you. Do you need help to put Viktor in the car?”

The coach doesn't need any help. He manages to lift Viktor without breaking a sweat.

“I will see you at the GPF,” the coach says.

The taxi's door closes.

Yuuri is left standing, alone and lost in the streets of Sochi.

(If given the chance, he would do it all over again.)

* * *

Yuuri gets back to his room at 22:48.

He's even more exhausted than yesterday, and barely makes it to the bed, but this time, there's a wide smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri's POV:  
> "[Viktor's] lips are curled into the prettiest smile Yuuri has ever seen."
> 
> At the same time, Viktor's POV:  
>  _is he for real??? that was so cute, hes so cute, im totally tapping that. hes eros and at the same time hes totally agape?? how can he be so perfect?? hes so cute omg ___
> 
> * * *
> 
> Hope the characterization wasn't too off... :/  
>  It feels like I messed up Viktor...
> 
> Also, I'm currently very tired. I'll check for typos/mistakes in the morning. (I just really want to have a a chapter/a day schedule.)  
> And the Chapter Text ao3 engine isn't working well for some reason?? Every time I try to format the texting it doesn't work. Sorry about that, I'll try again in the morning.
> 
> Take care! ♡


	3. 7th December 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much happens, except at the end of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter! Sorry about that. But don't worry, it was planned! More should happen next chapter!  
> (also, Yurio came in!! yay!)
> 
> Like I said to some of you, I'm trying to do a 1 chapter per day schedule, but honestly I'm not sure I can actually keep up lol. I'm trying, so please be kind and patient with me.
> 
> So many kind and lovely comment! All my love goes to you guys! ♡

Yuuri wakes at 04:48.

He doesn't feel quite as sick as before, but he's still in a sort of distant daze. It seems like talking with Viktor woke him, even if only a little.

His phone reads 9 unread messages. All of them are from Viktor.

**23:45**

_do you know how cute  
                    you are_

_did I tell you yet_

_youre very cute  
                    cute cute cute_

**23:58**

_you said that I inspired you  
                    but_

_you inspired me too_

_im so glad I met you_

There's no other message for the rest of the night. Judging by the way it's written, Yuuri guesses that Viktor wrote this when he was still drunk.

**04:35**

_Oops, sorry._  
_Didn't mean to send you_  
_all that._

_I still mean it though._

**04:48**

_Asleep? Oh well.  
                    Sleep well  <3_

It takes Yuuri several minutes to gather his words.

**05:06**

_Sorry, I just woke up._

**05:07**

_Yuuri!_

_Want to eat pirozhki together?  
                    We can go to the ice rink too!_

**05:08**

_Yes!_

_I mean. Sure, if you_  
_want to._

**05:08**

_;)_

_I'll be here in 5._

**05:09**

_OK. See you._

Yuuri rushes to the shower, and prays to whatever deity there is that he will make it in time.

* * *

Yuuri makes it in time.

“Your hair is wet,” Viktor remarks, and brings a hand up to touch a wet strand of hair. His lips are curled in a soft smile, and his gaze is all kinds of gentle and lovely.

Yuuri flushes, eyes fixated on the hand in his hair. “U-uh, I- I took a shower…”

“In five minutes? That's fast.” Viktor raises an eyebrow at him. He takes his scarf off, and ties it around Yuuri's neck. He lays a hand on Yuuri's back, and starts to push him toward the park.

“I-I'm used to it,” Yuuri admits shyly, trying to figure out if he has died and gone to heaven. “I often oversleep...”

Viktor smiles. “Not a morning person? Noted.”

Why would he need to note it? It's not like he'll ever see Yuuri wake… up… Yuuri flushes, as an image of waking in the same bed as Viktor floods his mind. He guesses that… he wouldn't mind waking up next to Viktor.

(When he glances up again, Viktor is watching him with a secret, sly smile, and eyes that say _I know what you're thinking_. And despite that, he doesn't seem to mind. )

* * *

The man at the stand is surprised to see them again, and, though this time he doesn't fall back in surprise, he still yelps.

Viktor asks for six pirozhkok, which is twice more than last time. He doesn't explain even when Yuuri sends him a questioning glance.

(The man at the stand says something to Viktor in Russian that has Viktor smiling and giving Yuuri a very pretty, very soft smile. Yuuri feels like dying (of happiness).)

They sit at the same bench than before.

“Sorry about last night,” Viktor says, and bites into a pirozhki. “Hope I didn't scare you with that.” He looks disheartened as he says that, his shoulders dropping.

“Ah!” Yuuri yelps, and hurries to reassure Viktor, “No, no! It's alright, you didn't scare me at all!” Viktor looks up at Yuuri with wide eyes. “I mean, it was alright, you didn't do anything bad or anything. I mean, I've seen worse – I've done worse, I think and—”

“You've done worse?”

(Viktor doesn't look disheartened at all anymore. Yuuri thinks he might have been played right then.)

“…ah.” Yuuri blanches.

 _Did I just admit I'm a horrible drunk?_ Yuuri wonders faintly. _Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear._

“Yuuri?”

“U-uh, I mean...” He gives an uneasy laugh, and turns away. “Y-yeah? I guess…?”

Viktor hums, watching Yuuri intently for a moment.

Yuuri stares back.

Oh, his eyelashes are very long.

Viktor smiles. “I'd like to see that.”

“O-oh…” Yuuri says. “O-okay.”

“Okay?” Viktor repeats, his smile taking a more teasing tone.

Realizing he's still staring (in his defense, Viktor's eyes are fascinating), Yuuri yelps, and flushes horribly. He turns away, avoiding Viktor's gaze. He hesitantly nods. “… okay,” he says, but he doesn't even know what he's agreeing to.

When he glances back at Viktor, he is offered a soft smile.

 _!!!_ , his mind screams.

Yuuri might have just fallen a bit in love.

* * *

They end up not going skating together, because they spend too much time at the bench.

(Yuuri is too busy watching Viktor's pretty smile and pretty eyes and pretty face to pay attention to time passing. And Viktor just doesn't pay attention.)

They part in front of the ice rink Yuuri goes to. Viktor winks and waves at Yuuri over his shoulder as he walks away, and Yuuri shyly waves back.

Ciao Ciao gives Yuuri disturbed stares during the whole practice.

* * *

Soon after lunch time, Viktor sends him a message.

**12:49**

_Do you have anything to_  
_do this afternoon?_  
_We could go visit Sochi._

**12:52**

_My coach wants to_  
_keep me until 3pm,_  
_but after that I'm free._

**12:53**

__Great! :)))_ _

__I'll see you then!_ _

__< 3 <3 <3_ _

Yuuri ends up using all his courage by sending one, lone:

_**13:05** _

__ <3 _ _

Viktor replies by sending him three text blocks of hearts. Yuuri dies of embarrassment.

(Ciao Ciao gets a glimpse of it, and promptly gives Yuuri an even more perturbed look.)

* * *

At 15:03, when Yuuri comes out of the ice rink, Viktor is already here.

“Yuuri!” Viktor calls, waving enthusiastically.

There's his coach, and a blond boy at his side. Yuuri recognizes him as the Russian Yuri, Yuri Plisetsky. His coach only gives Viktor a disapproving look, but Plisetsky glares and barks something in Russian.

Viktor ignores Plisetsy; instead, he runs to Yuuri. “Yuuri!” he greets, a huge, dopey smile on his face.

Yuuri fears his own smile is even more dopey and silly than Viktor's. “Viktor,” he greets back shyly, flushing just at the sight of Viktor's face. “Hey.”

“What the fuck is this, a shitty romcom?” Plisetsky rudely interrupts, a look of utter disgust on his face.

Yuuri flushes to his roots.

Viktor laughs. “Be nice Yura.”

 _Oh, so this is the 'Yura' Viktor was talking about_ , he realizes. _Well, Viktor said I'm cuter than you,_ he thinks, smug and proud.

(He doesn't say it aloud, of course, mainly because he's way too shy to ever do that, but also because he wants to keep Viktor complimenting him a secret. And also, a bit because he's still a bit scared of Plisetsky – in Yuuri's defense, he's not used to people threatening him because of his name.)

Yuri only glares harder.

Viktor's coach sighs, and says something in Russian.

Laughing, Viktor replies, in Russian too – of course, Yuuri doesn't understand a word, but whatever Viktor says makes both his coach and Plisetsky stare at Viktor in obvious disbelief

“Well,” Viktor says suddenly, “we're going now!” He starts to drag Yuuri away. “Have fun!”

Yuuri sends them a shy wave, and mutters a quiet, “Goodbye.”

The two just watch them go with disgruntled looks on their faces.

“U-um… Viktor, where are we going?” Yuuri asks, catching up with Viktor's pace.

Viktor's face brightens. “Don't worry, Yuuri! I'll be the perfect tour guide!”

* * *

They end up getting lost three times.

Yuuri is the happiest he's ever been. Viktor seems to share the sentiment.

(Viktor takes about 30 selfies of the two of them, smiling dopey, silly smiles at the camera.)

* * *

In the evening, they go to a restaurant.

(Thankfully, it's not the one they went to last night. Yuuri isn't sure he'd be courageous enough to go back there, what with the scene drunk Viktor did.)

“Please don't get drunk,” Yuuri tells him when they enter.

“Okay, okay,” Viktor laughs. “I won't, I won't.”

Yuuri gives him a dubious look, but decides to let it go for now.

“Do you remember much of last night?” Viktor asks him, while waiting for their orders to arrive.

Yuuri promptly flushes. “U-um… that is…”

“Yes?” Viktor guesses, smirking smugly.

“…yes.”

“Can you remind me then?” Viktor asks, smiling innocently – but Yuuri knows him better than that by now, and he knows that it's all an act. “I'm afraid I only remember talking about how cute you are.” Viktor's fingers are splayed on the table, slowly inching towards Yuuri's own hands.

Under the table, Yuuri can feel Viktor's leg brush against his calf.

 _Abort! Abort!_ , Yuuri's mind warns.

“Uh,” Yuuri tries, but his mouth suddenly feels dry.

“Yes?” Viktor says, teasing under all the fake obliviousness.

Yuuri can barely believe this is happening. (Almost) All of the blood in his system is rushing to his head. Viktor's leg brushes against his thigh, and his brain short-circuits. “I'm— I… uh…”

Viktor chuckles, and slowly retracts his leg. His hand stops moving.

Great job , Yuuri thinks. He's red in the face, his breathing is irregular, and he's pretty sure he's about to die of embarrassment. You just ruined it all, idiot.

Yuuri feels like the biggest idiot ever.

“ _Yuu_ -ri,” Viktor calls, voice teasing. But there's a hint of seriousness in the midst of it.

His gaze snaps up from where he's been staring at the table's wood, and he flushes under Viktor's gaze. “V-viktor…?”

“Yuuri,” Viktor says, this time sounding more soft and warm now. “Don't worry about it.”

_Ah. Is it that easy to read me?_

Yuuri nods, trying not to blush again.

Viktor's smile only softens. “So what's your favorite food?”

* * *

Yuuri manages to get two things throughout the whole evening.

He gets a nickname, 'piglet,' because Yuuri admits that he fattens up easily and likes katsudon.

And he gets drunk too, because the embarrassment of what happened in the beginning of the evening is still there, burning and pulsing into his memory, and he can't get it out of his mind – so, of course, for exhausted, embarrassed Yuuri, alcohol is the answer.

(Yuuri hates himself sometimes.)

The jugs of beer (and other kinds of alcohol that Yuuri doesn't recognizes at all) come rolling.

And Viktor looks at him like he's the best thing that ever happened to him.

Yuuri doesn't actually mind.

* * *

(Eventually, Yuuri passes out.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is that a cliffhanger?
> 
> Like, I'm so freaking tired. Every two sentences I wrote, I went like: _how do i english?? ___  
> I think my brain stopped working, lol. I'm dying a little here actually.


	4. 8th December 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri wakes up with a headache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I squeak every time I get a notification about someone commenting, lol I'm so weak.  
> Kudos to those who answer to my answers! You guys make my days! ♡
> 
> I make one little comment about being tired, and suddenly everyone's like "take care of yourself/take a break" wth you guys are so freaking great. ♡  
> I'm always tired though, so don't worry about it (I'm alright I think??).

Yuuri's consciousness comes in waves.

The first thing he notices is the horrible, horrible headache he has. Every thought, every twitch create ripples of pain, makes him want to curl up and just die.

(It's not that horrible. He's just exaggerating.)

He doesn't know how long he stays there, trying not to move a muscle, but at some point in time, he just _suddenly_ realizes that maybe, just maybe, he should be worrying about where he is.

Opening his eyes is about the worst experience Yuuri has ever lived through.

There's not even any light, and yet everything seems incredibly bright. It brings a sharp pain to his skull that makes him recoil. He instinctively brings his hands up and holds his head.

 _Someone_ chuckles.

Yuuri's eyes snap wide open in horror.

“Hangover?” a distinctively male and distinctively _Viktor-Nikiforov-ish_ voice says, teasing and all kind. “Want some aspirin?”

 _Oh what have I done?_ , Yuuri thinks.

He turns, slowly, very slowly.

His worst fear is confirmed.

Viktor _Fucking_ Nikiforov is on the other side of the bed, head propped up and sheet falling off his shoulders and showing his neck and— and…

He's shirtless.

Yuuri glances down, and finds out he's shirtless too. And he doesn't seem to be wearing any pants either.

_Oh._

Well, at least, he has his boxers… (Wait, since when does he have boxers like that?)

“Yuuri?” Viktor calls, and this time, he sounds worried.

“V-Viktor,” Yuuri says, and tries to follow it up with the very, very obvious question, but doesn't manage to. He's torn between being embarrassed, happy, or just horrified. He feels sick, actually. “Viktor… what…?”

A crease appears between Viktor's eyebrows. “Yuuri, are you alright?” He shifts to get closer to Yuuri, and the sheet slips off even more.

Just like Yuuri, Viktor isn't wearing any pants. However, unlike Yuuri, he isn't wearing boxers either.

Yuuri stares, and tries to get his mouth working. “I… Viktor…” _What happened? Did we do anything? Why are we— why are you **naked**?! _

Yuuri stumbles off the bed, and, just like the coward he is, runs toward the nearest door he finds. Luckily, he gets into the bathroom.

He locks the door behind him.

Silence.

In front of the door, there's a mirror. Yuuri can see himself. His hair is tussled, his glasses are missing (he has no idea if they were in the room), and there are suspicious, red marks on his neck and chest.

Back against the door, Yuuri slides down.

_Oh._

“...Yuuri?” Viktor calls, from the other side of the door. He sounds worried.

Yuuri feels guilty, but he doesn't think he can get out of here any time soon.

There's the sound of rustling, and then soft footsteps. They step in front of the door. There's a soft thud , as something hits the door – Yuuri has no idea what.

“Yuuri,” Viktor calls again, sounding strangely desperate. “Please, come out. Please.”

_Oh my God, oh my God. Viktor Fucking Nikiforov is begging me._

Yuuri presses a hand over his mouth, and tries not to hyperventilate or do anything stupid like, oh he doesn't know, something stupid, like _sobbing_. There's absolutely _nothing_ to sob about.

“Yuuri…” Viktor starts to knock something (his fingers?) against the door softly.

He crawls over to the sink, and lifts himself up.

His reflection seems a little less worse now. The red marks look more pink now. Some even look brown – like bruises. Yuuri starts to wonder if they are just bruises.

Maybe he just, he just fell down in a river or something wet with rocks, and Viktor had to change him out of his clothes but somehow lost tracks of what he was doing halfway through and just left Yuuri like that or maybe— _!_ (Oh who is he even _trying_ to fool?)

A sob escapes. Yuuri immediately slaps a hand over his mouth.

The soft knocking stops.

“Yuuri…” Viktor sounds disheartened. “Do you regret…?”

“No!” Yuuri yelps immediately, whirling around to face the door. It leaves him dizzy, and he stumbles towards the door, almost crashing into it face-first. “No, no… I mean… I- I don't… I don't…”

“…Yuuri?” Viktor sounds somewhat hopeful.

Yuuri closes his eyes, and lets his head falls against the door. “I don't remember anything.”

Viktor gasps.

“I… I'm sorry,” Yuuri says sincerely. “I… It happens every time I get drunk. I never remember anything…” He bites down on his lower lip. “Viktor… Please forgive me for whatever I did. I- I swear I'm usually not like this at all! A-alcohol just has that effect on me! I… I…” Yuuri's shoulders slump. “I'm sorry…”

Viktor is silent.

“Viktor…?” Yuuri calls. “Viktor. I'm sorry… Please, please… Just, please, just—”

“Yuuri,” Viktor cuts. “Yuuri, calm down.” There's a tilt in his voice, something that tells Yuuri that he's disappointed , of all things. “Yuuri, you need to calm down.”

Of all things, Viktor is _disappointed._

 _Oh God,_ Yuuri thinks, _Just kill me now._ But, honestly, he should be used to it. People are often disappointed in him. It's to be expected.

“Yuuri, can you please open this door?” Viktor pauses, and Yuuri tries to calm his breathing. “I'd like to see your face.”

This is the finishing blow.

Somehow managing to undo the lock with his trembling fingers, Yuuri grasps at the handle, and whirls the door open, almost hitting himself in the head by doing so .

Yuuri is left, on his knees, face right in front of Viktor's.

He's kneeling too. He's wearing a loose shirt and boxers. There's a red mark on his forehead – had he been leaning on the door with his _forehead_? Had he been _hitting the door_ with his _forehead_? –, and he looks about as surprised as Yuuri feels.

“Yuuri,” Viktor calls, voice all soft and kind and warm and _loving_. He opens his arms wide.

Yuuri melts down, and lunges into Viktor's arms.

* * *

Yuuri eventually stops crying.

In between the shoulder and the neck, Viktor's shirt is soaked with Yuuri's tears. The back of the shirt is ruffled, from where Yuuri has been gripping the cloth tightly.

Viktor doesn't stop hugging him. He continues to hum some horrible, terrible song that's way off-pitch and makes Yuuri want to muffle Viktor with a pillow – but it also makes him want to kiss Viktor, because that's so amazingly Viktor and also incredibly cute. And he continues to thread his fingers through Yuuri's hair, and he continues to gently rub his back.

Yuuri burrows his head into the crook of Viktor's neck.

“Viktor,” he says. His voice is a bit muffled – and broken from Yuuri's sobbing –, and for a moment he fears Viktor didn't hear him, but then he stops humming. “Viktor… what happened?”

Viktor stops moving, and begins shifting – Yuuri almost takes everything back. But Viktor is just shifting to get Yuuri a shirt.

At the reminder that he's almost naked, Yuuri flushes. He slips on the shirt as fast as he can.

Viktor chuckles softly, and shifts Yuuri again, so that while still in his lap, he's able to see Viktor's face.

“You really don't remember anything, do you?” Viktor mutters, eyes searching. He must see Yuuri's lost look, because then he smiles – it's a bit pained, which just makes Yuuri want to cry again. “Do you remember that you got drunk?”

“… yes.” And even if he hadn't, it would have been made obvious by now.

“Well, you make a complete personality shift when you get drunk,” Viktor says, voice mischievous, suddenly. “You become an _irresistible_ **playboy**.”

Yuuri's brain stutters to a stop.

“…a… a _playboy_ …?”

Viktor sighs, dramatically closing his eyes and nodding. “Yes. But you forgot the most important… an _irresistible_ playboy!”

 _!!!_ , Yuuri tries to scream, but his voice isn't working anymore.

“You had me completely charmed, Yuuri,” Viktor grins, all teasing and mischievous, but with a hint of… of the same kind of _loving_ that had been in his voice before. “I was under the spell. It's sad that you passed out so soon – I had to carry you back here, you know.”

“C-charmed?”

“Yes,” Viktor gives him a look that screams _fondness_. “You danced tango and waltz with me,” he says, an excited, lovely smile growing on his face. “You gave me a _lap dance_ , and you dragged me to a bar with a pole to show me your _pole dancing_.”

(Yuuri is dying.)

Viktor leans down, right in front of Yuuri's face. A nd, with the smoothest, prettiest voice, the brightest, most beautiful eyes, and the most loving, fondest smile, tells him: “You were lovely.”

 _Ah,_ Yuuri thinks, even as embarrassment and the leftover pain from the hangover weighs on his mind, _I love him_.

* * *

Viktor decides that just telling him isn't enough.

He takes out his phone, and shows him a 45 photos-long folder made only of photos of that night.

(In all the photos, Yuuri is at, at least, a certain level of underdressed that leaves him with his shirt open and tussled. After some photos, even Viktor starts to lose clothing.)

In most of them, Yuuri is just giving the camera a _sultry_ look, either licking his lips, winking, or smirking. However, in others, Yuuri is sitting on Viktor's lap, facing him. In the latest ones, Yuuri is on a pole dance, in his boxers.

But there are some, some where both Viktor and Yuuri are there. They're dancing, of course. In most of them, it's tango, and not the waltz, and in absolutely all of them, Viktor and Yuuri are smiling, and looking at each others.

There's even one or two where they're looking at each others in the eyes, and smiling. They look like a drunk, very-much-in-love couple that decided to dance the tango and undress each other at the same time.

(And though Yuuri doesn't like most of them, he admits that those where Yuuri and Viktor are both dancing, together, are the best.)

And then, as a finishing blow, Viktor tells him: “I think there are some on your phone, too.”

Yuuri whines, and tries to stop Viktor from getting up. Viktor only laughs.

* * *

They get out— _oops_ , they _sneak out_ (because Viktor says that his coach wouldn't let him go outside at this hour if he could stop him) of Viktor's hotel room at 06:28 – which maybe means that Yuuri woke up at 4 am again. Sadly, they don't have enough time to go and get pirozhki together.

Viktor makes Yuuri compensate by making him promise to eat dinner together again. Yuuri accepts, because he's a fool, and a fool _in love_. And because Viktor gives him the best smiles when happy, and Yuuri feels light-headed and light-hearted each time he does it.

A fool in love, indeed.

* * *

Thankfully, Yuuri arrives at practice in time.

Ciao Ciao gives him an extremely weirded out look. It may be because of the silly, foolish smile that's constantly on Yuuri's smile.

(He then scolds him and goes get food, because Yuuri's stomach begins growling.)

* * *

**12:23**

_Hey Yuuri :))_

**12:26**

_Yes? What?_

**12:27**

_:)))_

Yuuri instantly grows suspicious.

**12:27**

                _Come outside._

Yuuri instantly knows what's about to happen.

Just as he expects, Viktor is outside, standing in the middle of the walkway in all his beautiful glory. He's holding a brown paper bag. He smiles brightly when he notices Yuuri coming.

“Please don't get angry,” he says, voice whining (cutely).

“I'm not angry,” Yuuri says, even though it's probably not needed, because he's grinning. “What are you doing here?”

Viktor perks up. “I'm here for you, of course!” He falters under Yuuri's persistent stare, and hesitantly holds up the brown bag.

Yuuri takes the bag. It's full of pirozhkok.

He gives Viktor a long look. “Viktor,” he says, torn between scolding him and hugging him senseless.

Viktor pouts.

Yuuri almost melts at that – which isn't fair, this is the first time he meets a man that cute. Tone more scolding, he says, “Viktor.”

They continue to stare at each other.

(Yuuri thinks he sees Ciao Ciao give them a tired, _what-are-you-even-doing_ look.)

The first one to give up is Viktor, surprisingly.

He sighs, and slumps his shoulders. “After this morning, I was worried about you… So I thought that…”

Yuuri sighs, and gently pats Viktor's cheek. “I can take care of myself, Viktor,” he assures, even though most of the time he really needs someone to take care of him. “You don't have to worry about me.”

Viktor nods obediently. It's cute.

He smiles, “And you know, we can't survive only on pirozhki.” He glances down at the bag full of pirozhki. “Didn't you take more than necessary, anyway?”

Viktor perks up, and chuckles. “No, no, it's not just for us. I brought some to Yura yesterday, and he liked it a lot. He wanted some today too, but since we didn't have time to go there…” He laughs. “He became angry with me.”

“Yura is… Yuri Plisetsky, right?”

“You know him?” Viktor asks.

Yuuri shifts uncomfortably. “I guess. I mean, not really. I only heard of him,” _and you told me I'm cuter than him._

“And I told you that you're cuter than him.”

“E-eh?” Yuuri turns back to face Viktor, and blushes when Viktor gives him a knowing look. “That's not— that's not what I was talking about!”

 _Yeah right,_ Viktor's face says. Yuuri wants to punch him for that – and by punching, he means kiss him, softly, on the mouth.

Ciao Ciao decides on that time to interrupt. He coughs, and gives Yuuri a meaningful look.

Yuuri sighs. “Viktor, I'd love to eat with you, but I need to get back to practice,” he says, with genuine disappointment. He's going to get back at Ciao Ciao for that – he'll need to ask for Phichit's help for that.

Viktor pouts. “Aww,” he whines. “Okay…” He pauses, looking deep in thoughts for a moment, before leaning over and—

He kisses Yuuri on the forehead.

“Here,” he says, giving a frozen Yuuri two pirozhkok. “See you tonight!” he throws over his shoulder, already walking away with a content smile and mischievous eyes.

Yuuri is still frozen.

 _Ah,_ he thinks, a goopey, ridiculous smile appearing on his face, _I love him._

* * *

For the rest of practice, Ciao Ciao sighs in a way that says _I-am-too-old-for-this._

* * *

At 3pm, Ciao Ciao lets him go, under Yuuri's insistence.

Yuuri FaceTimes Phichit in the locker room.

“Phichit,” Yuuri says, first thing in the conversation. “I think I've fallen in love.”

Phichit freezes. “Wait what? When?”

“I don't know when,” Yuuri says, sighing softly. “I just realized this morning.”

Phichit still looks nervous. “With who?”

Yuuri smiles. “Viktor.”

“Viktor… Viktor as in… As in Viktor Nikiforov…? The one you've had a crush on since middle school?”

Yuuri nods. “Yeah, that Viktor.”

Phichit looks dubious. “Are you sure that's safe?”

“Safe?”

“I mean… You're obviously biased because he's your lifelong idol, so…”

Yuuri laughs lightly. “Oh, don't worry about that, Phichit.” He then gets serious. “Listen, Ciao Ciao did something horrible, and I was wondering if you had anything I could use to get back at him…”

Phichit grins.

(By the end of it, Yuuri almost feels like pitying Ciao Ciao. But, honestly, he could have allowed Viktor to stay even just five minutes longer.)

* * *

Yuuri and Viktor rejoin ten minutes later, under the pretense that Viktor hasn't shown him everything in Sochi yet.

(And it doesn't make much sense, because Viktor has been to Sochi only twice before, and he knows the city just as much as Yuuri. Neither comment on it.)

* * *

They don't go to a restaurant this time.

Instead, they go to a park, and buy some takeout.

“Oh,” Yuuri says, at one point, looking up at the sky. “The stars are beautiful here.”

“Hmm, beautiful,” Viktor says, voice soft and all kinds of loving.

Yuuri blinks, and looks at Viktor, but Viktor isn't watching the sky at all. Instead, he's staring at Yuuri.

Flushing (more gently than usual), Yuuri smiles back, hesitant and shy, but still there.

“Yeah,” he agrees, watching with attention the way Viktor's eyes shine, “beautiful.”

* * *

(He doesn't end up in Viktor's bed this time, but it's a close call.)

At 23:12, Yuuri falls into his bed, clutching his phone (that was beeping from Viktor's “ _goodnight <3_” message just a few seconds ago) to his chest, a lovesick smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never been drunk (I'm way too young lol).
> 
> Um, I did the """angst""" by """"accident,"""" you see, please don't kill me. Made me sad writing it :((((( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> How did I even write this lol I've never written before in my entire life wtf. I'm proud of myself though. I think I'm doing alright for a first time?? (I've never been in love either lol.)
> 
> *Slips reference* ooOOpS 
> 
> Also: Writing 101, crea-sei edition:  
> How to keep from writing a scene that you really don't want to write: Make Ciao Ciao intervene, and make it so you can create scenes after it reacting to the intervention so that you can compensate the loss of words on the word count. lol, what even.
> 
> I don't know whether I'm crying because I'm feeling the VictUuri feels, or because my eyes are too tired. lol, im tired af why do i keep doing that.


	5. 9th December 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri forgot about something... or someone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lolol you guys are great I love you all ♡♡♡
> 
> I'm trying not to sacrifice logic/characterization just for drama/angst, so sorry if it doesn't seem angsty enough even though I have the perfect opportunity.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who commented again! I'm trying to answer to everyone (I spend my mornings doing just that lol), and remembering everyone's names, so sorry if I didn't notice that you commented twice!
> 
> Remember that I love all of you, _okay? ___♡

Yuuri wakes up at 04:12, feeling well rested even though he hasn't slept long enough.

He immediately checks his phone for new messages from Viktor.

 **2015 December 9** **th  
** 04:14

_Viktor: 2 messages_

Yuuri goes to swipe in the messages, but freezes.

_9th…?_

_But that was the day… That was the day Vicchan died…_

The realization makes Yuuri gasp, dropping his phone and hiding his mouth behind his hand.

Oh.

_Oh._

_**Oh no.** _

Vicchan.

(He's such a horrible master.)

* * *

                 **04:08**

_Good morning! <3 _

_Still asleep? Send me a_  
_message when you wake_  
_up! <3 <3_

     **04:48**

_Sorry, just woke up._

_Good morning to you_  
_too._

                **04:49**

 _Ready to go eat breakfast_  
_together? <3_

    **04:55**

 _I'll see you in front of_  
_my hotel?_

                **04:55**

 _Yes! <3_  
_See you! <3 <3_

* * *

Viktor doesn't come alone.

Yura, Yuri Plisetsky, walks beside him, scowling and muttering things in Russian. Whatever he says makes Viktor smile.

He glares at Yuuri too, but Yuuri doesn't have the heart to mind.

“Good morning,” he greets them, voice gone soft and quiet. It's a wonder it hasn't grown hoarse, what with the time Yuuri has spent crying for his not-dead-yet dog.

The sparkle in Viktor's eyes dims a little, but his photogenic smile stays pretty. “Good morning,” he says back, almost tentatively.

Yuri P shifts awkwardly, probably sensing the mood, and he mutters a quiet, “Hey.”

It's silent for a brief moment.

Yuuri can't stand the silence. “Are you coming with us?” he asks Yuri P.

The Russian Yuri draws his shoulders up defensively. “I'm only here because this idiot here” – he sends a glare at Viktor, who only chuckles – “won't tell me where he gets those pirozhkok from.”

Viktor's smile takes on a teasing tone. “And because you wanted to meet Yuuri again, right Yura?”

Yuri P's glare gets darker, and he bites out some Russian words that sound quite harsh.

His smile getting a bit colder, Viktor replies something in Russian. It sounds stern and scolding.

Yuri P clams up, and begins glaring at the ground instead.

There's silence again.

Yuuri's shoulders slump, and he barely suppresses a sigh. He forces a smile. “Let's go then?” he says, trying to put some cheer in his voice.

“Sure!” Viktor exclaims, immediately snapping in place at Yuuri's side.

Yuri P rolls his eyes and goes at Viktor's other side.

* * *

While Yuri P goes 'secure' their bench, Yuuri and Viktor go buy the pirozhkok.

(The street seller wiggles his eyebrows at Yuuri (in a _I-know-what-you-did_ fashion), and Yuuri has no idea why. Viktor laughs awkwardly though, a blush settling on his cheeks and expanding until his cheeks – and even the back of his neck becomes rosy.)

“ Yuuri,” Viktor says, as they get to a secluded part of the park. He stops walking, and shifts his hold on the bags of pirozhkok.

Yuuri stops walking a moment later. He turns, only to find Viktor giving him a pleading, (almost) desperate look. “Viktor…?” he calls back, almost wary. “Is there something wrong?”

Frowning, Viktor almost looks affronted. “'Is there something wrong?'” he repeats, and, wow, he sounds _hurt_. “Shouldn't I be the one saying that? Yuuri… What happened…? Are you… Are you that bothered by Yura's presence? I can make him leave if you want—”

Yuuri shakes his head furiously. “No, no!” he yelps. “That's not it!”

“So there is something!” Viktor says, voice going higher in obvious frustration – frustration at Yuuri? Why? What had he done now? “Did I do something?”

“What? No no— Viktor, no! That's not it at all!” Yuuri takes a few steps towards Viktor, but then stops. His shoulders slump. His reason for his 'bad mood' seems so ridiculous now – depressed for a pet? Ah! He really shouldn't be bothering Viktor about something like that.

Almost as if in reaction to Yuuri's shoulders slumping, Viktor's own shoulders draw up. “Yuuri… Why won't you just tell me what's wrong?” He sounds desperate.

Yuuri takes a step back. “Viktor, it's really, it's really not something— it's not important.”

“It is.”

“It really isn't.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor says, voice stern and soft at the same time. “If it's putting you in that state, then it is important.” He takes three steps forward to compensate Yuuri's step back.

Yuuri shyly glances up.

The sunshine is weak, the white of the snow hurts his eyes, the sky is gray and menacing, and the leafless trees are sinister, but Viktor seems… he's shining.

Yuuri's eyes water.

His own eyes widening, Viktor lets go of the pirozhki bags, and grasps Yuuri's hands. Viktor's skin feels warm, comforting.

“It's—” his voice cracks. “It's really not important.”

Viktor brings Yuuri's right hand to his mouth, and gently kisses his fingers.

The tears redouble.

“I– I 'm sorry I'm such,” he sobs, “I'm such a crybaby,” Yuuri says, voice hoarse and tired.

Viktor's face breaks, and he suddenly looks close to tears himself. He wraps his other arm around Yuuri's waist, and hugs him against his chest. “Don't be,” he whispers, and presses a loving ( _loving? loving?!_ ) kiss on Yuuri's brow.

Whole body relaxing, Yuuri hesitantly wraps an arm around Viktor's chest, and let out a quiet, breathless laugh. “Okay,” he says, and finds himself unable to mask the pure love in his voice.

Viktor only hugs him tighter.

(He doesn't ask why Yuuri is crying again, and Yuuri is silently thankful for that, because he's not sure he'd be able to lie to Viktor. Will he ever tell anyone about the time travel, anyway?)

* * *

They eventually manage to entangle from each other. By then, the bag of pirozhkok has grown wet on the underside, from laying in the snow for so long.

When Yuri P sees them arrive, he scowls and opens his mouth as if to yell something, only to glance at Yuuri's face and falter. For a moment, he looks lost, glancing between Viktor and Yuuri. Eventually, he huffs, and says: “You sure took your time.”

(Yuuri remembers Viktor telling him that he's cuter than Yuri P, but he starts to doubt it when he sees the face Yuri P makes when he bites into the pirozhki. He looks almost angelic. Happy and almost angelic, a nice fit.)

* * *

Viktor and Yuri's practice starts earlier than Yuuri's – and Viktor somehow 'forgot' to notify him about that – so they go to the ice rink they're using first. To drop Yuri off, because Viktor insists on walking Yuuri to Ciao Ciao.

Viktor and Yuri's coach is in front of the ice rink, and glares at the both of them, even though they're not late (Yuuri wouldn't survive having a coach like that).

“Yura, Vitya,” he says, and continues by saying something in Russian.

The first two words sounded like names. Or at least, Yuuri thinks so. And Yuri and Viktor flinched one after the other when their coach said the words.

“Vitya…?” he mutters, after Viktor somehow manages to send Yuri and his coach into the building.

Viktor flinches, as if zapped, and slowly turns to give Yuuri wide eyes. “Yuuri?”

Yuuri flushes. “No, no, it's nothi—” He remembers Viktor's reaction from earlier in the morning, and cuts himself off. “It's just… um… What does, what does ' _vitya_ ' mean?”

Viktor's eyes widen even more, and his lips part open. There's a pleased flush appearing on his cheeks. “Sorry,” he says, hurriedly, “I didn't, I didn't quite catch that.”

He _totally_ caught that. Yuuri's brows furrow. “What does 'vitya' mean?”

Viktor leans forward, seemingly unconsciously. His flush is becoming redder and redder. “Say it again…?”

There's definitely something wrong here. “Vitya.”

“Again?”

“Vitya. Um, listen, Viktor—”

“No, no, wait!” Viktor exclaims, and grasps Yuuri's hands again, bringing them up. “Again, please.”

“…Vitya.”

A smile blossoms on Viktor's face. “Again.”

“...I can't do this all day long,” a teasing smile grows on his face, “Vitya.”

Viktor makes a chocked noise, and brings their linked hands to one of his cheek – as if he was only going to do that with his own hand, and forgot that he was already gripping Yuuri's. “Again.”

“Vitya,” Yuuri says, now sure that Vitya, whatever it means, is a nickname, “I have to go to practice, you know.”

Viktor nods, looking almost dazed. “Of course, of course,” he says, and begins dragging Yuuri forward, with their hands still linked. “Just— can you say it again?”

“Of course, Vitya.”

(Yuuri _might_ have become addicted to the way Viktor blushes when he calls him that.)

* * *

Ciao Ciao takes one look at Yuuri's face, and his face goes through a range of emotions – worry, sad, exasperation, disbelief – before settling on utter _tiredness_.

He sighs, mutters something that suspiciously sounds like “I'm too old for this,” and gestures towards the locker room.

As he goes change, Yuuri wonders if maybe he should give up on taking revenge. Ciao Ciao looks exhausted enough at it is, without Yuuri even doing anything.

(But Phichit would be disappointed if they just gave up now, so he shrugs the guilt off.)

* * *

At lunch time, Viktor sends him rows and rows of multicolored hearts without any text.

Yuuri sends him back two lone red hearts.

Viktor sends him exclamation marks and two blocks of multicolored hearts.

(Ciao Ciao takes one – _one!_ – look at Yuuri's face, and _sighs_.)

* * *

Ciao Ciao lets him go at 2pm, mainly so that he can rest, but also because Yuuri is completely, utterly distracted.

(Several times before Yuuri goes, Ciao Ciao reminds him that his Short Skate is the next day. As if Yuuri needed another reason to be anxious.)

     **14:21**

_I've been released earlier today._

    **14:29**

_I'll be in my hotel room._

_Send me a message if you_  
_want to meet._

Viktor doesn't answer, so Yuuri guesses that he's still in practice.

* * *

                 **15:13**

_What's your room number?_

     **15:14**

_203._

_Why?_

_Viktor._

_Viktor._

_Viktor are you coming to_  
_my hotel?_

_I could just come out._

                 **15:18**

_Don't._

_Stay in your room._

Yuuri huffs.

                 **15:23**

_I'm here._

_Open the door? <3 _

Someone knocks on Yuuri's room. He knows who it is, and there already is a silly smile on his face.

“Hey,” Viktor says, when Yuuri opens the door.

Yuuri huffs, trying to mask his obvious fondness by a fake sternness. He fails. “Hey.”

* * *

They stay in Yuuri's room for the rest of the day. They even go as far as to order food for their room.

(Yuuri's phone doesn't ring, and Mari doesn't call him to tell him about how Vicchan was run over by a car. Vicchan lives.)

* * *

They share the bed – innocently, of course.

Viktor falls asleep long before Yuuri does.

In his sleep, his features relax, and he looks peaceful, happy.

Yuuri watches him, silent. He looks at their linked hands, and kisses the knuckles of Viktor's fingers.

 _Ah,_ he thinks, utterly hopeless and helpless, _I love him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol, I think the story is finished in 4 chapters? I think? lol, I could make it longer, but I'm running out of things to say, so... Well, I think I could always find new ideas... So don't take my word for it yet!
> 
> * * *
> 
> Yurio, while waiting for Viktor and Yuuri, was browsing through tiger photos. (lolol he's too much.)
> 
> By the way, I know that pets can be extremely precious. It's just Yuuri's low self-esteem talking here.  
> Edit: VICCHAN LIVES!! DON'T WORRY ABOUT HIM!!
> 
> Surprisingly enough, I'm not posting this at midnight! It's actually just 23:30 lolol I'm dead guys I have to wake up early tomorrow why do i do this to myself lolol


	6. 10th December 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The GPF starts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys sure are weak to Viktor's reaction to being called Vitya lolol, don't worry, I'm weak about it too.
> 
> Anyway! Thank you for all the kind comments! ♡ Sorry I wasn't able to reply to all of them (yet! Don't worry, I'll get on it as soon as I can), and sorry for taking a break! School started again, and I hadn't even begun any of my homework lololol so I had to rush them lololol.
> 
> It's 1am, and I've been working on this for 4 hours. I'm not sure if it's good or bad, I'm half-asleep (and, oh God, I'm gonna have to wake up at 6am wtf why did i do this why oh why).  
> I'll see this again in the morning. Maybe. Don't know.
> 
> Love you all! ♡♡♡

~~~~Yuuri wakes up, his heart warm and fuzzy.

There's something long and heavy thrown over his stomach , curling around his back and holding him close to a large, warm body. He can hear the delicate lull of a heartbeat, and the slow, quiet breathing of a snore.

Yuuri's eyes flutter open.

Viktor is asleep still. His eyes are closed, and his mouth slightly open. Strands of hair are falling over his eyes, tickling his cheeks; both eyes can be seen now.

He looks… _aah_ , Yuuri can't put it in words.

Almost unwittingly, he goes to brush Viktor's bangs aside. It feels soft under his touch.

(Yuuri feels like he's in a dream.)

Without a thought, he cups Viktor's face, and lightly swipes a thumb over his cheek.

Viktor's eyes flutter. Yuuri doesn't have the heart (the decency?) to remove his thumb from Viktor's face.

Viktor blinks at him twice, before smiling gently. The arm he has around Yuuri's waist curls tighter, bringing him closer. “Good morning, lovely,” he says, sotto voce.

Yuuri doesn't even try to smother his snicker. “Good morning,” he replies and, almost teasingly, adds, “Vitya,” trying as hard as he can to make his voice curl around the word.

It works; Viktor's cheeks color a nice, pretty pink. He huffs a laugh, and burrows his face into Yuuri's neck. “Stop using this against me…!” he mock-whines, and shows his protesting by kissing the base of his neck.

Yuuri laughs brightly, and places both hands on the back of Viktor's head. “V-Vitya,” he says, between two laughs.

Stopping for a moment, Viktor raises his head, and places a sweet, loving kiss on Yuuri's lips. “Yuuri,” he says back, eyes simultaneously languid and tender.

 _I love you, I love you,_ he seems to say, and Yuuri can barely believe that.

Nonetheless, Yuuri smiles back. _I love you too,_ he tries to say.

Viktor seems to understand, because he quirks a smile, and immediately goes back to his teasing.

* * *

Only Yuri's messaging them breaks them apart.

“He wants to get pirozhki together again,” Viktor says.

Yuuri doubts that Yuri actually worded it like that. “We shouldn't keep him waiting then,” he says, but doesn't move to entangle himself from Viktor.

Said Drama Queen sighs, and tightens his grip on Yuuri's hand. “Do we really have to?” he whines, giving Yuuri puppy eyes.

Any other day, it would have worked. But today, Yuuri has woken up to Viktor Nikiforov 's face. He has grown immune to anything and everything – probably not, but Yuuri can dream.

“Yes,” he says, and begins to move away.

“If we must,” the _absolute_ Drama Queen sighs, and starts sitting up, but not before laying another kiss on Yuuri's collarbone – for good luck, he says, as if dressing up needs luck.

* * *

Yuri scowls at them when they arrive together. He doesn't look surprised in the least.

“At least you're not holding hands,” he says, sounding (a bit) like a sulking, petulant child.

Viktor perks up – and Yuuri immediately knows what's on his mind, which is, **_wow_** – and exclaims, “Wow! Good idea, Yura! Thanks!” He takes Yuuri's hand.

It feels warm. Yuuri tightens his grip on Viktor's fingers.

“Ugh,” Yuri groans, rolling his eyes to the heaven. “Unbelievable,” he spits out, giving them a disgusted look.

Yuuri, who would have stammered and blushed and would have died of embarrassment a few days ago, finds he doesn't even mind.

(“I'm only here for the pirozhki,” Yuri says, but he doesn't go away when they receive the treats. Instead, he patiently sits down next to the both of them, and quietly nibbles on his pirozhki.)

* * *

After a (quite short) warm up, Yuuri and Viktor both are allowed the morning off, to rest before the Short Program.

Yuri is allowed the morning off too, because his Short Program begins around 17:40, but he refuses to do anything with them (“I don't wanna look at your disgusting love-thing,” he spits out, when Yuuri proposes).

They go back to the hotel, deciding to actually rest until mid- afternoon, so that they can go support Yuri while he skates his Short Program.

* * *

“Feeling nervous?” Viktor asks, as they're in bed. His fingers are trailing circles in the small of Yuuri's back. It's soothing.

“Yes,” Yuuri replies, without any hesitation. Love hasn't suddenly made his invincible – though he does feel better than usual, and he feels better than he did _last_ _time_ , when his dog was dead and Viktor didn't even know he existed.

Viktor hums, his eyebrows creasing.

Smiling, Yuuri pokes Viktor's forehead. “Don't worry,” he says. “I'll be alright.” _I'm used to it_ , he thinks, and then, because he actually trusts Viktor, says, “I'm used to it.”

Viktor gives him an incredibly fond look. “I thought you would say that,” he whispers, and doesn't sound relieved at all.

“Viktor,” Yuuri begins, but doesn't know how to continue.

“Competing against you…” Viktor says, abruptly changing the subject – Yuuri can't be more thankful. “I'm impatient to see you skate,” he says.

Yuuri's heart skips a beat. “Is that so?” he says, as lightly as he can.

Viktor hums in confirmation. “Yes,” he whispers, his hands squeezing lightly on Yuuri's waist. “Give me your best,” he _demands_.

“I will,” Yuuri _promises_ , and his anxiousness backs away.

* * *

At mid-afternoon, they drag themselves out of bed, and go to the ice rink used for the GPF.

Yuri is already there. He gives a glare when he sees them approaching, but Yuuri thinks he looks a bit thankful.

“You'll do it,” Viktor says, and then proceeds to remind Yuri of all the things he usually does wrong. Yuuri feels nervous in stead of Yuri.

But Yuri brushes it off. “Shut up,” he says, glaring, but his gaze mellows soon. “I don't need you to encourage me.” He looks (is) a child still, and Yuuri thinks he may actually want Viktor's approval on some level.

“Of course,” Viktor says, his smile secret and cryptic.

“We'll be cheering for you,” Yuuri reassures, just for good measure.

Yuri makes a displeased noise, but he doesn't protest. Yuuri thinks he may have just won this battle.

* * *

Yuri's Short Program comes, eventually.

For 1 minute and 30 seconds, all eyes are on him.

* * *

Yuri gets first place.

(Yuuri grows anxious.)

* * *

“Your Short Program was really good,” Yuuri tells Yuri.

Yuri snorts, “It wasn't much,” he says.

Not much? Oh, Yuuri will absolutely fail his Short Program, if Yuri, who is way better than Yuuri ever was and ever will be, and whose Short Program is way better than Yuuri's, says that _it wasn't much._

“Oh,” Yuuri says, a bit awkward. He tries hard not to show any of his thoughts, and shrugs lightly. “I thought it was beautiful,” he says sincerely.

“Yes, yes,” Viktor cheers, “You did great Yura!”

Yuri scowls, and says, “Whatever,” but there's a hint of pleasure on his face.

* * *

The Men's Senior Short Skate is coming, and Yuuri doesn't feel ready at all.

The confidence he had found earlier that day has faded, leaving behind the taste of an already-broken promise (he won't be able to do his best, no way), and the guilt at knowing that all of this, that this second chance will be for nothing.

Staying inside the ice rink makes him antsy, so Yuuri insists on going outside. Viktor agrees to go with understanding eyes, and walks two steps in front of Yuuri.

Yuuri is left alone (or as alone as he can be) with his doubts. He doesn't think he can do it. He can't. He'll fail.

“Yuuri.”

He flinches.

They've reached the outside by now. Viktor has stopped walking.

He's watching him with sad eyes. “Yuuri,” he calls, sighing. “You don't need to worry.”

 _It doesn't work like that_ , Yuuri wants to say, but the words feel too heavy. He ends up staying silent.

“Yuuri,” Viktor tries again, sounding a bit frustrated. “Listen to me, please.” He takes Yuuri's hand, and intertwines their fingers. “Don't think about anything else. Don't think about the audience. Think about— Yuuri, skate for _me_.”

“...for you…?”

“For me,” Viktor confirms, and kisses Yuuri's knuckles.

“For you.”

* * *

Yuuri and Viktor get separated when they enter the ice rink again. Both their coaches are furious – though maybe Ciao Ciao is more lenient, even as he continues to give Yuuri half-worried, half-exasperated looks – because they are a bit behind on schedule.

They get back on schedule in a few minutes only, but it's too late, and they don't have time to spend together again. Viktor is the first to go, while Yuuri is the last.

* * *

(As Viktor skates to the center of the rink, he glances at Yuuri, and gives him a smile and a wink. Yuuri tries not to blush, while the other competitors give them wide looks.)

Viktor's program is, as Yuuri remembers from _last time_ , wonderful and beautiful in every kind of way. But compared to _last time_ , it's a lot better. It feels more… _sincere_.

Yuuri, the only one here who remembers _last time_ , wonders if he really was the one to change it all, to make it so much more beautiful.

Yuuri can't take his eyes off him.

* * *

Somehow, without anyone noticing, Viktor's program ends.

Cheers shake the ice rink, plushies are thrown Viktor's way, and commentators praise his program. As he goes to the Kiss & Cry, those who can gathers around Viktor, trying to get something, anything out of him.

In the midst of all of that, Viktor finds the time to send Yuuri a loving, encouraging smile.

This time, more people catch on it, and almost immediately, start suspecting something between the two of them. Already, people are giving Yuuri once-overs, and begin to expect something _more_ , something grand from him.

(He has been noticed by the legendary Viktor Nikiforov, so he must be special, right?)

The other competitors still are giving them wide looks. (Out of all of them, Yuuri has only met two; Chris and Crispino. It's the first time he competes with Cao Bin or Jean-Jacques Leroy though.)

Yuuri finds that, for the first time in forever, he doesn't care.

Instead, he smiles back, trying to show all the love he has.

Viktor beams back, but is dragged away before they can interact any more.

* * *

The audience's eyes are on him. Yuuri doesn't care, doesn't even notice.

The only eyes he can feel are Viktor's. Viktor's eyes are on him.

Yuuri should be anxious. He's not.

Viktor's eyes are on him, and Yuuri feels loved.

Yuuri isn't sure if it's actually love — God, he could be reading it all wrong, and it could just be a weirdly intimate friendship — but he hopes, he hopes with everything he has and is, that it's real.

His love for Viktor is real.

He only needs to confirm whether Viktor's love for him is real or not.

He hopes, he hopes that it is.

He hopes.

(It's not the same kind of hope he is used to – the hope that one day he will meet Viktor, the hope that one day he will be able to stand on the podium, gold around his neck, the hope that one day he will feel fulfilled about his skating career – it's not the same thing. It's stronger, truer.)

(He hopes Viktor (will love) loves him.)

Viktor's eyes are on him.

(Yuuri loves skating. He also loves Vicchan, and his family and friends. He loves a lot of things, he even loves katsudon. Yuuri loves a lot of things.)

Viktor's eyes are on him, and Yuuri loves him.

* * *

Yuuri is so lost in thought that he barely notices that time passes, and that his Short Program ends.

He only notices when he ends the program, out of breath, chest puffing up and down in exhaustion, and finds a camera lens instead of the Viktor he expected to see.

The audience is cheering, and Yuuri bows, thanks them for their support, even though he doesn't even remember skating – he only remembers the feelings.

He thanks the judges too, and skates off the rink.

Ciao Ciao greets him with a wide, proud smile. He gives Yuuri a bottle of ice cold water. Yuuri takes two sips, and then decides that, even though a few minutes ago he was out of breath, he's not even tired in the least.

They go to the Kiss & Cry, with Yuuri still feeling like he's in a daze.

 _91.25_ , his score reads. This is the highest score Yuuri has ever had.

Ciao Ciao whoops with joy, and hugs Yuuri. Yuuri is frozen, and tries to hug back, but he's afraid he's not really able to do it.

He's in fourth place.

This is… this is _good._

* * *

“Yuuri!” Viktor greets when Yuuri manages to get into the backstage. He goes to hug Yuuri. “How are you feeling?”

People are giving them wide berth. And wide-eyes looks, too.

“Um,” Yuuri tries. “I… Good…?”

He's… he's… elated.

“I… I did it…?” Yuuri whispers.

Viktor's grasp on his fingers tightens. “Yes,” he says, sotto voce. “Yes, you did it.”

The tone of his voice makes Yuuri look up. His eyes are soft, crinkled around the edges. It makes him look happy, content. His smile is sweet, pretty in a way his photogenic smiles aren't.

Yuuri hasn't seen this look directed at anyone other than him.

Here is Yuuri's confirmation.

(His hope wasn't needed.)

* * *

They sneak out before the media can ask them anything.

(Ciao Ciao takes one look at Yuuri and Viktor, still linked at the hip, and sighs. “Go,” he says, sounding pained. “Just go.”

Viktor snickers, and Yuuri, who is trying very hard not to laugh, doesn't have the heart to reprimand him.)

(Yuri sends Viktor a message, which reads; “Say to the Japanese Yuri that it wasn't so bad.” Viktor says it's a miracle, and Yuuri just tells him to send “Dear Russian Yuri, thank you, by Japanese Yuri.” A few minutes later, Yuri sends back a simple “Die.”)

* * *

They go to Viktor's hotel room, for a change.

“ I'm tired,” Yuuri says, as they're both already lying in bed.

Viktor hums. “Go to sleep, then.” He pauses. “Restless?” He doesn't wait for Yuuri's answer, and wraps his lithe, warm, soft fingers around Yuuri's own, cold, pudgy, rough fingers.

“Viktor,” Yuuri calls, “Vitya.”

“Yes?”

“…while skating…” Yuuri begins.

“Yes?” Viktor says again, coaxing Yuuri gently. He presses a kiss against Yuuri's palm.

“I was thinking of you,” Yuuri admits, and is too tired to even feel in the least bit embarrassed. “And I was hoping…”

“Hoping?”

“Vitya… Please, tell me… This thing we have…” Yuuri takes a big breath, and takes comfort in the feeling of Viktor's lips on his skin. “Is it… Vitya, do you love me?”

Viktor hums. “Do I need to say it aloud?”

“Yes.”

“Then, yes, I do.” Viktor drags Yuuri forward by tugging on his hands. He wraps an arm around Yuuri's waist, and stares resolutely into Yuuri's eyes. “I do love you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri is quiet for a moment.

“And you? Do you?” Viktor says, eyes bright.

Yuuri has never admitted anything of the like. He hasn't ever loved anyone. He's afraid of relationships, he's afraid of losing people, he's afraid of going too far, of pushing too much. Just like he loves a lot of things, he's afraid of a lot of things.

Nonetheless, Yuuri says, “Yes,” and that's it.

Viktor hums, and doesn't say anything.

There's nothing left to be said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried my best???? Sorry.


	7. 11th December 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri's Free Skate comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, sorry for not updating earlier lol. Got distracted by everything in existence ever lol.
> 
> I was helped by the hellspawn, [ Mist](http://pandas-eat-pizza.tumblr.com/)  
> Helped a lot! Thank you so much! ♡ Also the main reason I even began writing this lol.
> 
> tfw you write romance and you need date ideas but you've never dated anyone. thank god Mist was there, omg. wouldn't have done it without you bby lololol
> 
> I recently discovered I'm a hopeless romantic. This fic is a romance. Coincidence? Of fucking course not.
> 
> By the way, we passed by the 1,000 Kudos milestone!!! ♡♡ Yes, yes!! I love you guys so much!! ♡
> 
> Really, love you guys. ♡

In the middle of the night, Yuuri wakes, for no reason except his anxiety.

He feels warm.

Light is streaming through the curtains, the room is basking in a warm yellow glow. Once again, Viktor is still asleep. His hair falls around his head like a halo, reflecting the bright light.

 _What a sight. How luck I am_ , Yuuri thinks, smiling. _How lucky I am._

How lucky he is.

 _What makes me love him?_ he thinks. _What makes him love me?_

Yuuri snuggles closer to Viktor, and goes back to sleep.

* * *

Yuuri wakes up warm, again.

This time though, instead of only hearing Viktor's gentle breathing, there's a loud banging and a screaming, familiar voice.

“Wake the fuck up!” the familiar voice (definitely Yuri's) is screaming. He's definitely the one “knocking” on the door so loudly.

Yuuri jerks up, almost falling off the bed in his hurry. Have they forgotten something? Oh, are they late to Yuri's Free Skate? But wasn't it supposed to be at 17:00? Have they really slept for that long?

Viktor, who hasn't moved since Yuuri woke in the middle of the night, grumbles something, and makes grabbing motions at where Yuuri was few moments ago. He's clingy, he likes to touch Yuuri – and Yuuri, for all the blushing, can't help but love it.

“Viktor,” Yuuri whispers urgently, but then immediately gives up, and goes to check his phone. His phone reads 07:00. “Not late…?” he mutters.

Why is Yuri knocking on their door then? There isn't anything planned for 08:00…

Oh.

_Oh._

Yuuri can't help it; he giggles.

Yuri is there because they're late for their daily pirozhki.

* * *

It takes actually going to the pirozhki stand for Yuri to calm down again. He glares during the whole trip, muttering threats in both Russian and English. Viktor laughs, and Yuuri tries not to smile, because it's just extremely endearing.

(“Thought you weren't coming today,” the street seller laughs, and then says, “Tired because of last night?” while winking. Yuri begins cursing, but Viktor only chuckles. Yuuri thinks he might have understood what was meant, but he's not sure. Surely, people haven't caught on already?)

They go to the same bench as always. While there is about one inch between Yuuri and Viktor, Yuri goes as far as to sit half-off the bench to get as far away from them as possible, while still having access to the bag of pirozhkok.

(When Viktor wraps an arm around Yuuri's shoulders – which makes Yuuri explode, because PDA – Yuri gives them such a disgusted look that it makes Yuuri feel guilty.)

Yuri has to go to practice at 10:00, which leaves them with about one hour to spend together.

The hour spent together begins and ends with Viktor doing PDA without a thought, Yuuri blushing until he's nothing but a red ball of anxiousness, and Yuri belching in the background.

* * *

As soon as they drop Yuri off, Viktor holds up his hand, and stares at Yuuri, smiling. He glances between Viktor's hand and his face, blushing, and doesn't know what he's supposed to do.

“Yuuri,” Viktor sings when he just continues to stare. “Getting tired here.”

Yuuri flinches, and impulsively clasps Viktor's hand. “T-there,” he stutters, and shocks himself by directly looking at Viktor's eyes.

But he's only smiling. He hums, “Yes, right there,” and lifts their linked hands to his lips. He kisses Yuuri's knuckles. He seems to like doing that – kissing Yuuri's hands.

He doesn't say anything else, and instead begins walking, swinging their hands like a child would do. He's also very childish, sometimes – Yuuri can't find it in himself to mind.

“Is there anywhere you want to go to?” Viktor asks, looking around.

Yuuri shakes his head. Just being with Viktor is enough.

As if able to read his thoughts, Viktor smiles fondly. He doesn't say anything else, but he changes their path, dragging Yuuri along.

* * *

They go to a secluded park. Yuuri wonders just how many parks there are in Sochi.

(They're still holding hands. Viktor doesn't seem to mind the people staring at them as they pass by, and those taking photos. He doesn't move away from Yuuri, and doesn't look ashamed in the least.

Instead, he smiles at the cameras.)

Snow is still falling. The ground and the trees are covered in white. There are some other people in the park, but only a few, and they all respect Viktor and Yuuri's privacy, only glancing at them once and then going back to what they were doing.

Yuuri hears a quiet bark, and turns to see a woman walking her dog. A brown, little, adorable dog. Yuuri stares, because it suddenly reminds him of Vicchan.

Suddenly, Viktor tugs on his arm.

Yuuri turns around, a _“What's wrong?”_ already on his lips.

He gets snow thrown in his face.

He gets a _snowball_ thrown in his face.

He yelps and jerks back in surprise. His glasses become wet, and the snow falls into his clothes. Yuuri shivers violently, ready to splutter indignantly. Viktor laughs, it sounds angelic to Yuuri's ears and warms his heart.

“Viktor!” Yuuri yelps.

Viktor is already juggling another snowball in his hand. “Yuuri,” he calls back, teasingly, playfully.

Yuuri narrows his eyes at him, trying to appear angry. A sort of bubbly happiness rises in his chest. “Viktor,” Yuuri says, more calmly. “You shouldn't have done that.” A smile threatens to rise, and his lips twitch in an effort to keep the frown on his face.

Viktor smiles sheepishly.

Yuuri fakes a sigh, and crouches down to gather some snow. He glances up to find Viktor giving him a surprised but elated smile. He grins.

Yuuri and Phichit sometimes have snowball fights too. Phichit usually wins, because he's merciless and cruel, and Yuuri is constantly worrying about making him too cold.

This time though, Yuuri is as merciless as Phichit is.

He throws the snowball right in Viktor's face.

(Sweet, _sweet_ vengeance.)

* * *

For the first time ever, Yuuri wins a snowball fight.

They're both wet, and shivering. They need to get back to the hotel and to dry off, because getting sick on the day of the Free Skate is a bad idea.

So, as he passes a hand through his wet hair, Viktor laughs, and says, “We should be getting back.”

Yuuri nods, and leaves his snow fort behind, walking to Viktor's side and slipping his hand in Viktor's. He earns a surprised, happy noise, and a lovely reddening of Viktor's cheeks.

And then, something that would have made Yuuri die of utter embarrassment a few days earlier happens: even though he's been on the ice since he's 8 years old, even though he's a professional skater, even though he managed to impress Viktor Nikiforov with his skating, Yuuri manages to slip on the ice.

Yelping in shock, he falls, and drags Viktor with him – well, in fact, he manages to make Viktor fall on top of him, each hands on either side.

There's a moment of shocked silence.

They stare at each other, eyes wide. Yuuri can feel Viktor's breath keenly; it comes in long, white puffs of air.

The scene would be romantic, except that… it's cold, and Viktor's breath is warm.

It fogs up Yuuri's glasses; Yuuri can't see anything.

Viktor is silent; they both are. Until suddenly, Viktor explodes in clear, hearty laughter. It isn't long until Yuuri follows along.

“Th-that was so—” Viktor tries to say, while struggling to catch his breath in the midst of his laughter. “So cliché…!” He drops his head on the crook of Yuuri's neck.

Yuuri's glasses gradually become clear again. He hugs Viktor, and tries to muffle his own laughter in Viktor's coat.

It takes them about five minutes to stop laughing. By then, the both of them are red in the face and their legs have fallen asleep.

“Are you alright?” Viktor asks, peals of laughter still in his voice.

Yuuri doesn't say anything, but he smiles, and goes for a kiss.

(He's pretty sure he hears the shuttering of a camera, but… oh, _who cares?_ Let them know who stole Viktor Nikiforov from the world.)

* * *

Getting back to the hotel is painful. Their clothes are dripping wet, and some of the freezing cold water slips inside. Thankfully, it's not that windy that day, so they're not shivering as bad as they would be if there indeed was wind.

They get many weirded out looks on their way back. And even more pictures – many pictures. Yuuri guesses that it's not often you see a dripping wet, 4 times GPF gold medalist skater holding hands with a random skater, who is coincidentally also dripping wet.

He wonders if they're going to post them on instagram. _Phichit is going to kill him._

(The receptionist at the hotel gives them horrified look, but doesn't say anything. Nevertheless, Yuuri apologizes. Viktor follows a moment after, looking properly chastised by the look Yuuri gives him.)

“Do you want to go first?” Yuuri asks, when they enter the room.

Viktor hums, and gives Yuuri a once-over. “Why not go together?”

Yuuri freezes for a second, and then, trying not to blush, gives Viktor a deadpan look. “The shower's too little for the both of us,” he says, instead of a clear _no_.

Viktor gives him a teasing smile, but only says, “Go ahead,” and dramatically shows the way to the bathroom, “my king.”

Yuuri smiles, and shakes his head. “You're terrible,” he says, fond, and walks to the bathroom, taking new clothes along the way.

“Terrible, but yours!” Viktor calls after him.

* * *

After getting changed into warm, cozy clothes, they go back outside for lunch.

Viktor insists on getting Japanese food. Yuuri couldn't possibly refuse.

(“What do you recommend?” Viktor asks, as if Yuuri is a guide and knows everything about Japan.

“Um, katsudon?” Yuuri says, because he has no idea what else to say.

“It's your favorite, right?” Viktor says, and orders one bowl of katsudon to share.

Yuuri doesn't remember telling him that. And he doesn't remember telling him about getting fat with katsudon. He guesses it has something to do with _that_ night, that horrible, alcohol-filled night.)

* * *

In the afternoon, before Yuri's Free Skate begins, they go back to the hotel.

Viktor insists on building a pillow fort. Yuuri couldn't possibly refuse.

(“You're such a kid,” Yuuri says, as he watches Viktor try to balance pillow upon pillow.

Viktor gives him a wide-eyed look of fake worry. “Is it a bad thing?” he asks, tone childish, then snickers, and pats the empty spot next to him. “Come here, Yuuri.”

Yuuri sits down, but doesn't help. “How come you're so good at this?”

Viktor laughs. “I build forts with Makkachin. We both love it.”

Turning around to help with the building, Yuuri whispers, “I tried once with Vicchan. But I decided it wasn't worth the effort.” He remembers waking to the feeling of a little, furry body next to him, of hearing the quiet snoring, of thinking _ah, is this happiness?_

Viktor only hums. “Is that so? Well don't worry! I'm a pro at building forts!”)

* * *

When they come to see him before the Free Skate, Yuri looks flustered. Angry still, and grumpy – very grumpy – but flustered. And happy.

“I didn't ask you to come,” he grumbles, but doesn't cross his arms like he usually would. “I don't want to look at you lovesick idiots before my Free Skate.”

Viktor pouts, but it's obvious he's trying not to laugh. “Yura, that's so mean! We're only here to support you, you know!” He wraps an arm around Yuuri's shoulder, and brings him closer to his chest. “We came all this way for you! Aren't you grateful?”

Yuuri pokes Viktor in the soft part of his stomach to shut him up – it works, and Viktor yelps in shock. Yuuri gives Yuri a gentle smile. “What Viktor means by that is, we support you, Yuri, and we are here willingly,” he pauses to give Viktor a mockingly-dark look. “We're sure you can get gold,” he assures Yuri.

Looking like he's hesitating between exploding in fury at being reassured like that (pride, Yuuri supposes), and just running away from there as fast he can, Yuri simply makes a disagreeable noise in the back of his throat. “Of course I'm getting gold! Who do you think I am?!” he almost-yells.

There's a pause. Viktor continues to switch between pouting and trying-not-to-snicker, Yuuri continues to smile reassuringly, and Yuri shifts on his feet. He glances at his left, and then gives the both of them a meaning look.

“You better be looking,” he says, half-threatening, half-sincere.

“Of course,” Yuuri hurries to say.

Even Viktor chirps up, “We're here for you, after all! It'd be a shame to miss your performance!”

Yuri's scowl comes back immediately, and he gives Viktor a disgusted look. “Ugh,” he says, and turns away. “Whatever,” he throws over his shoulder, walking away, and back to his coach.

(Said coach gives Viktor an exasperated, _what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you_ look. Viktor grins and waves at him. Yuuri is reminded of Ciao Ciao.)

* * *

Yuri's performance is breathtaking, even more so than the last one.

No one can look away.

(At the end of his performance, as he is breathing hard, obviously exhausted, Yuri takes the time to glance at them. He must notice the proud smiles on their faces, because his lips twitch, as if trying to suppress a scowl.

Their smiles don't fade.)

* * *

Yuri gets gold.

* * *

“Let's celebrate!” Viktor exclaims, once they get back to Yuri.

Yuri, who is still wearing his glinting golden medal, doesn't even scowl. He frowns, but that's it. “Whatever. You're just going to get drunk, like last time.”

“Is that a no?”

This time, Yuri scowls. “Whatever.”

“Then it's a yes!”

“What is this, a guessing game?” Yuri says, but doesn't refuse or accept anything.

Viktor laughs, a nice, clear sound that rings through the room. People turn toward them, wonder in their eyes. Yuuri cannot blame them; he was the same only a few days ago.

“We promise not to get drunk,” Yuuri negotiates.

Yuri's scowl disappears, but the frown stays. “Whatever.”

* * *

They don't get drunk, thankfully.

(Yuri's frown relaxes, and disappears. There's an almost-there smile on his face.)

However, Viktor does get touchy with Yuuri, touching his thighs lightly, holding his hands, brushing his fingers against Yuuri's skin, slipping his arms around his waist – he does it all. Yuuri tries not to act flustered, and attempts to (subtly) answer by teasing back.

Viktor looks elated, cheeks rosy even without alcohol.

“You're disgusting,” Yuri tells them, though he doesn't actually look disgusted. He still looks happy; he's probably riding on the feeling of winning.

The both of them just smile sheepishly; they don't stop.

* * *

They drop Yuri off at his hotel room, and then go to Viktor's.

Viktor stumbles into the bed, still fully clothed and wearing his shoes. Yuuri watches him with a smile, removing his shoes.

“Yuuri,” Viktor whines, still face-down into the bed. He wiggles around to face Yuuri, and watches him remove his jacket with half-lidded eyes. “Yuuri, come here,” he whispers, opening his arms wide in invitation.

Yuuri giggles, and slips into Viktor's embrace. “Not undressing?” He presses a kiss on Viktor's collarbone.

Viktor huffs, and tightens his hold on Yuuri's waist. “Give me a minute,” he says, sleepy. Then, after a moment, “Can't you do it for me?”

“You want me to undress you?” Yuuri says, teasingly. He moves his hand up, to part Viktor's hair and see both his eyes clearly.

It's Viktor's time to giggle. “What a dirty mind,” he says, and slowly removes his hands from around Yuuri's waist. “Yes.”

Yuuri muffles a snicker. “Alright, my prince. What else do you need me for?” He doesn't wait for the answer, and goes to remove Viktor's shoes. They come off easily, and he goes for the jacket.

His eyes blinking slowly, obviously trying to stay awake despite the want to just give up now and go to sleep, Viktor says, “I'd like you to stay here,” he continues by saying something Yuuri doesn't understand, probably in Russian. But then, he translates by, “My love, it means.”

Yuuri smiles, and removes the jacket. He would have liked to change Viktor into his pajamas, but it seems impossible now. Yuuri doesn't feel the need to move into his own pajamas, anyway. Just one night of sleeping into their day clothes won't do any harm, he guesses.

“Of course I'll stay, Vitya” – Viktor makes a keen noise, and presses his cheek into the bed's cover – “I love you too, very much so.”

The reaction to his nickname is still very cute. He doesn't think he will ever get tired of it. Yuuri kisses Viktor's forehead.

“Come on, let's get you in bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why did I use "inch" I actually use cm wtf why idek myself wtf.
> 
> I think it shows (at least in the first half of this chapter) but  
> I had no plan for this chapter lololol I'm so sorry. 
> 
> "Yuuri wonders just how many parks there are in Sochi" lololol idek lolol
> 
> Do you realize that this chapter was supposed to be around 1,000 words? It's actually 2,800. What, why.  
> Not complaining though. More material to write (more material to read for you? Hope you like it).
> 
> I'm tired now. Maybe this will be the day I finally get to go to sleep before midnight. (SPOILER: it's not the day I finally get to go to sleep before midnight.)  
> EDIT: It's 23:30. It'll take me 30 minutes to actually go to sleep. I have failed.


End file.
